


The Captain and the Colonel

by umqra1895



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bondage, Character Death, Dom/sub, Hot Military Sex, M/M, Military Fetish, Multi, Porn, Psychological Torture, Rape, Sexual Violence, Slavery, Suicide Attempt, Threesome - M/M/M, Violence, all the misery, all the sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-14
Updated: 2013-03-08
Packaged: 2017-11-25 10:44:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 44
Words: 119,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/638067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/umqra1895/pseuds/umqra1895
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'We can't do this, John,' Sebastian said, even as he grabbed at John's hair, his lips never straying far from John's. He wanted to devour this man right here in the office.<br/>'You’re right, we can’t,' John said breathlessly, licking up Sebastian’s neck.</p><p>All aboard the good ship SebastJohn, the pairing you never knew you wanted. When John and Sebastian start dating, they have no idea that they're bitter enemies. They begin a secret tryst, but when Jim Moriarty gets involved, they're pulled into a web of doubt, pain and control with little hope of a way out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Blind Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on an RP I did with thesherlockedboffin

            Sebastian was late, purposefully so. He liked giving the impression that he didn't need to wait around for people. He enjoyed the power of making them wait for _him._ He scanned the restaurant and spotted the army doctor almost immediately. He looked good, better than his picture, in his jacket and tie. He was smaller than Sebastian had thought he'd be, stocky and compact. Excellent. Sebastian straightened his own tie, which he felt extremely awkward in, squared his broad shoulders, and strode up to the table.

            "Captain John Watson? Colonel Sebastian Moran. Good to meet you in person, finally." He held out his hand to shake and gave a cocky grin.

            John gave a sigh of relief. He’d been sitting at the table for a full twenty minutes, fretting about whether he’d been stood up or not. He gave the man a warm smile and stood to shake his hand. God, he was tall. Broad-shouldered, too—and very attractive. His pictures hadn’t done him justice. John’s heart tripped a bit. “Hi. It's nice to meet you.”

            John gave a small, embarrassed smile as he sat back down. This was his first time going on any sort of date with a man, and he was nervous. Irrationally so, he berated himself. He'd seen battle, he’d been through _war_. Surely he could come out of a same-sex date intact.

            "May I say, you're looking _very_ fit tonight," Sebastian said, scanning the wine list. Screw the wines, bring on the scotch. They had good selections here, which is why he'd chosen the place. He absently felt at the gun concealed in his jacket. He really didn't hope Jim would call with an assignment tonight, but he needed to be prepared, just in case. And he'd feel naked without at least _one_ gun on hand.

            John blushed in surprise and gave a little laugh. “You're looking quite good, yourself, a tie suits you,” he said. Sebastian hadn’t been dressed up in any of his online profile pictures.

            Sebastian grinned, and they picked out their scotches, giving their orders to the waiter. Once he’d gone, Sebastian turned to study his date. The doctor looked nervous and fidgety. Either he was someone out to kill him (it wouldn’t be the first time), or he was just a nervous dater. Either way, cute.

            "So John…are you still a doctor? Aren't civilians _funny_?"

            “Yes, I'm a doctor still. It's uh..." He gave a little chuckle. "Well, it's certainly not Afghanistan. I'd be lying if I didn't say I missed the rush a bit. God knows I wasn't diagnosing elderly women with UTIs out east." He grinned as the waitress came over and he ordered the drinks for the pair of him before turning back to Sebastian. "And how about yourself? All that your page said was 'Freelancing'."

            "That's accurate. I could never settle into a desk job," Sebastian said. He didn't want to scare John off on the first date (did he just find himself thinking _first_ date? Usually Sebastian had a quick fuck and moved on) by revealing that he was a mercenary. He decided to change the topic. "So, doctor, correct me if I'm wrong, but you seem rather nervous." He smiled and ran a hand through his hair, then scratched at his scruff. "Why would that be?" He was used to making men nervous. He was attractive and he knew it.

            John gave him an apologetic smile, chuckling nervously. “You caught me. It's been a while, is all. I haven't been on a proper date in ages. It's not you,” he assured him. “Did you want a starter?”

            "Nah, I was never one for appetizers," Sebastian said, meaningfully making eye contact with John. The man had nice eyes, kind but sad. "I'll go right to the main course."

            John didn't miss the innuendo, but ignored it. “Sounds good to me.” He scanned the menu. Every once in a while, he'd take a little glance up at the other man. He was handsome, very much so, with cool grey eyes, a strong jaw with a bit of stubble, and his grin, though cocky, was undeniably attractive. His pictures didn't do him justice. “Fillet mignon sounds rather good tonight.' Was it because he had a fierce appetite for meat? John flushed a bit at the dirty thought.

            "Steak for me as well." Their drinks arrived and Sebastian clinked glasses with him. "Cheers. So, John...why'd you leave the military?"

            John sighed and took a sip. “Wounded in action. I got shot in the shoulder while going in to retrieve a downed lieutenant. And yourself?”

            Sebastian twitched a smile as their feet met. He would have this man by the end of the night, he was sure of that. "I was...discharged," he said, leaving out the "dishonorably" part out of it. He debated whether he should play nice or let John know exactly what he was getting himself into early on.

            John's brow furrowed. He considered asking why, but the man seemed to hesitate, which probably meant he didn't want to say. 'I see,' John said, taking another sip. 'So this freelancing you do, what is it freelancing for?' he asked, folding his hands and looking at him with interest, 'No wait--let me guess...' his eyes narrowed a bit, a little smile spreading on his face, 'Body guard?' he guessed, pointing at him.

            Sebastian smiled, raising an eyebrow. The man was quick. Good. He didn't want to waste his time on an airhead. But airheads generally didn't become captains in the army...or doctors, for that matter. "What gave it away?"

            A grin spread across his face. “I was a captain in the military.” He leaned forward and raised an amused eyebrow. “Did you really think you could hide a concealed weapon from me?” he asked a bit quieter, not wanting any of the other diners to hear.

            Sebastian smiled back. Oh, this was _delightful_! "Don't tell me you don't feel better when you have a gun strapped to you, John." He drank some of his scotch and said, just to rile him up, "And don't expect being a _captain_ to impress me. I outrank you."

            John gave a good-natured shrug, not phased by Sebastian's comment he took a drink, 'Of course it makes me feel better, that doesn't mean I do it though. It's not often that I actually find myself in need of my Browning. Oh, the dreary lives of civilians. It's...it relaxing, but a bit too much so,' John said thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. He shrugged again, 'Maybe I'm just an adrenaline junkie, though.'

            "Yeah, well maybe you should come work for my boss. He's always in need of a good marksman, and he pays well," Sebastian said. "He can be a right pain in the ass, though. Thinks he's God's greatest gift and all that. The man _is_ brilliant, but he's such a prat about it."

            John gave a little chuckle. “Thanks, but no thanks. I've my own genius to take care of. In fact, there's barely room in the flat for him, me, and his ego. It's probably why he never does the shopping—not enough room in the cab to get it home.”

            "Oh. You...live with someone?" Sebastian straightened, shifting his feet away from John's. "Is that why you're so nervous? You're cheating?" He smiled, but his heart dropped. He didn’t want to get involved in that kind of shit. He'd been with cheating men before, and it was far too drama-filled and tiresome. Sticky emotions got involved at it always ended ugly.

            “Oh! No—no, no! It’s nothing like that. He's just a colleague, a friend. Sorry—

didn't mean to make it sound like that.” John took another drink, finding himself relaxing a bit.

            Sebastian leaned back, relieved. Once the food came, they continued getting to know each other. Both of them had alcoholics in the family, which made Sebastian feel an even deeper kinship with John.  He leaned back as the plates of food were set in front of them and started in on his steak. Their live-ins both seemed to be big-headed, intelligent people who were always plotting or scheming by themselves.             Halfway through his steak and into his second glass of scotch, Sebastian reached over to grab the peppershaker, but ended up resting his hand close to John's, beginning to trace his thumb slowly along the underside of his wrist. "I'll be frank. I like you, John Watson."

            John smiled, looked down at it and moved his hand so that he could hold Sebastian's, his cheeks flushing slightly. “The feeling is mutual. God...I don't even know how long it's been since I've had not only an actual, proper conversation with someone about something other than...” He lost his train of thought as Sebastian began to run his fingers up and down John’s knuckles. “…crime diagnostics.”

            Sebastian grinned at John's blush—adorable. “I know what you mean, oddly enough." He frowned as his phone rang. Jim. "I'm sorry, I have to take this. My boss will skin me if I don't." _Literally_.

            "Boss, you gave me the night off, remember? ....Well, I couldn't give two fucks. ...No, you won't." He paused and glanced sideways at John, then murmured quietly, "Get someone else to do it. O'Seanassy. ...Yeah, I did wear the Westwood one, what's your point? ...Yeah, tomorrow. I'll be there." He sighed and pocketed his phone. "Sorry. He gets...unreasonable if I don't answer."

            John gave him a warm smile. “No worries—I'm actually on call right now. I can't imagine I'll have to go in, but just in case.” He took another bite of the steak, “This is delicious, by the way—excellent recommendation of a restaurant.”

            "I'm not generally a restaurant person, not that I bother to cook, but I figured this was a special occasion. I'm not a dating kind of man," he said. "And judging by your nervousness, you don't go on many dates either."

            “Hey now!” John remarked, a mock-offended look on his face, “I'm relaxing—

look at me. Two glasses of whiskey in, and I’ve loosened my tie a bit, too!” He smiled at the other, sitting back, “I'll tell you what, though. I'm not much of a suit and tie person. This whole getup is a bit uncomfortable.”

            "We'll have to get you out of it, then," Sebastian said, then laughed nervously. He couldn't believe he'd said that out loud. That sort of line was typical for him, but he was usually yelling it over throbbing music while grinding against someone in a darkened club. It felt out of place and juvenile in a nice restaurant. He felt his own face burning—he had forgotten he even had the _capacity_ to blush—and crammed another forkful of steak into his mouth.

            John's eyebrows went up. He liked Sebastian, and he would go home with him in an instant, but he didn't want a one-night-stand. He could tell Sebastian was embarrassed by it when his face immediately turned bright red. It was...well, it was really kind of cute on the face of the tall, broad-shouldered man. John bit his lip and cleared his throat. “I uh...I don't mean to give you the wrong impression, Sebastian, but I don't really think going home together tonight would be a good idea. I don't have a very good track record when it comes to dating so...I'm kind of looking for something that starts a...a bit slower.” He averted his eyes, feeling ridiculous. He hoped he hadn’t messed this all up. “So...I mean...I mean, I understand if that's not really what you're looking for. I won’t be offended if you want to call it a night or...or something.” John cleared his throat again and ducked his own red face into his food, taking another large mouthful.

            Sebastian swallowed, surprised, and moved his hand away from John's. "Oh. Right. That's...I mean, I get it." He didn't get it. He was totally flummoxed. He had turned on the charm, and it had been working! He supposed he hadn't been with someone like John before, someone who actually went on _dates_ in the first place. "Sorry. The whole dating thing...it's new to me. I'd rather not call it a night, if it's all the same to you. I was thinking of getting another whiskey and finishing my steak. And talking to you about what your favorite kind of gun was. Can you guess what kind I have on me right now?" Good, yes, change the subject. Sebastian tried to be as smooth as he could, but he felt like a fucking idiot. Usually he wouldn't give a fuck, but he wanted John to like him.

            As they turned the conversation over to guns, John wondered if maybe he should've just played along with the suit joke and went home with him. Maybe that would've made it easier. Too late now, though he couldn't help but wonder what he was missing out on. Sebastian was probably a good kisser. With looks like those, he likely had loads of experience. Maybe he wouldn't even _like_ John. Maybe John was too inexperienced for him and he'd want nothing to do with him anyway. John gave a silent, inward sigh as he finished off his food.

            Sebastian laced his fingers together after wiping them off and considered John again. "John...bit of a personal question. Have you dated many men?"

            “Hm? What? Oh...um...” John sighed. Fantastic. “Not... _particularly_ ,” he said, burying his face in his napkin, trying to hide the blush as he "wiped off his mouth."

            God, he'd embarrassed John. He was just so adorable. Sebastian had no doubt that Doctor Watson could intimidate people, but right now he looked so vulnerable. It made him want to kiss him all the more, to show him what a proper kiss was like. "It's kind of cute. I just wondered. You seem new to this whole thing."

            Cute? He seemed _cute_? John's blush intensified and he cleared his throat. “Ah. Well...I'm...I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong impression or anything.” Now here he was all flustered and embarrassed all over again. Lovely. He was making such a fool out of himself. He couldn't _wait_ to go home, have Sherlock give him a glance, and flatly state that his date had gone poorly as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Bloody brilliant.

            Sebastian wondered if he would seem too forward if he touched John's hand again. Maybe John just wanted him to back off and go home. Sebastian wasn't one to give up easily, however. He touched John's knuckles and stroked up his tendons to his wrist once again, and he was delighted when John turned his hand over to hold Sebastian’s across the table. "Well, I'm flattered that you decided I was worth taking the plunge for, if you _are_ new to the whole thing. Frankly, even someone fit like you isn't going to find someone as ruggedly attractive as me to wine and dine on any given day...." He grinned, hoping to set John at ease instead of send him running for the door.

            “Oh! Are we ordering desert, then? I think I saw a delicious piece of humble pie that you might like,” John grinned.

            Sebastian laughed, a genuine belly laugh. Oh God, when was the last time he'd _actually_ laughed like that? Probably when he and Jim had killed that homeless woman and she'd fallen in such a comical way that they'd both had tears in their eyes. But this made that moment seem like the cheap thrill it was. "I was never one for pie, humble or otherwise. But an after-dinner coffee would suit me well."

            “Coffee it is.”

 

            Sebastian insisted on paying for dinner, despite John’s protestations, then guided John out of the restaurant and down the street to a cigar parlor that had fantastic coffee. He put a hand on John’s back as he walked alongside him. The doctor was a full head shorter, which he liked. He wondered how John would feel in his arms. He was certainly compact, but there was a softness around the edges that Sebastian found appealing.

            John smiled a bit to himself as they walked. He liked Sebastian's hand on his back. It was...what? Comforting? Safe feeling? Did it make him feel special or wanted? None of those seemed to be it, though the feeling was all encompassing of them.

            Sebastian guided him into a warm-looking cigar parlor and ordered two black coffees. "The thing I like about this place, they don't fuck around with those damn lattes and macchiatos and all of that shite. Good black coffee, plain and simple. Mind if I smoke, or will I get the ‘smoking kills’ lecture, doctor?"

            John pursed his lips for a moment. He had figured that the man smoked, seeing as he was taking them to a cigar parlor. “Obviously you know the risks, so there really wouldn't be much point in me laying down the law.'

            And besides, John would never admit it, the thought of Sebastian with a cigarette poking out the side of his mouth while smoke curled out from between his lips was incredibly sexy.

            "Thank fucking Christ," he muttered, reaching for his pack. He wondered if he should tone down the swearing, but then thought, why should he? He swore all the time; no sense lying to John about it. He lit up and took a long drag, exhaling in a sigh of relief, then grabbed their two coffees and found a secluded nook for two by the window. They settled onto the padded benches, elbows touching. This was better, Sebastian decided as he blew smoke slowly through his mouth and nose.

            Oooh God, yes. John was acutely aware of the fact that he was staring, his mouth hanging open a bit, but he couldn't do anything about it for a long moment. He finally got ahold of himself, cleared his throat, and took a sip of his coffee. “So, tell me a little bit more about yourself. What do you like to do in your spare time? Any hobbies?” he asked, trying not to drool as he stared across the table.

            "Hunting. Big game hunting." Sebastian smiled. Any doubts of the doctor still being interested in him were put to rest, judging by John's expression. That was a look of _want_. Sebastian felt himself growing hard under the table as he imagined kissing John, of shoving him up against the wall and tasting his neck, his chest, his cock… He shifted away so John wouldn’t notice his problem under the table. "Honestly, guns are my main passion. My work involves them, but I can't get enough of them in my spare time either. How about yourself?" He took another drag of his cigarette, courteously angling his lips so that the smoke floated up towards the ceiling, rather than into John's face.

            John swallowed and took another sip of his coffee. “I do a _bit_ of...snooping in my spare time. My flatmate—the genius I told you about is sort of a private eye. Every so often, I'll help him out on cases a bit. I don't do much besides follow him around, but it's good fun,' he smiled, laughing a bit.

            "Private eye, huh?" Sebastian frowned. Sounded like that stupid detective Jim was so obsessed with, the one with the absurd name. Sherlock Holmes. He wondered if John had heard of him, or if his boss had. Ironic, that John was seeing the other end of the crimes. Maybe he'd investigated murders Sebastian had done. Not bloody likely, though. He was good at disposing of bodies and keeping it neat. With Jim's jobs, police or detectives never got involved. Except for that Sherlock character.

            John smiled and laughed, self-disparaging. “Right. Nobody’s called it a ‘private eye’ since 1943, I reckon.” He leaned back to look at Sebastian. “What kind of game is your favorite to hunt?”

            He crossed his leg toward John, liking the way their forearms touched when they were both resting on the table. He couldn't help but bring his hand up and run his fingers along the back of John's neck, right where his short blonde hair stopped. He must've drunk his scotch a bit too fast; he felt somewhat tipsy.

            "I love the game that's the hardest to kill. The kind that takes strategy and long camp-outs. Deer and elk aren't deadly, but they're fast and scare easy. Very rewarding." He stroked up and down John's neck very lightly. John hadn’t told him to stop yet, and his skin felt so good underneath his fingers. "But the deadly game is a whole other challenge. I took down an elephant last year in the Serengeti, but it almost cost me my life. Lion hunting was also thrilling..."

            John’s eyelids dropped closed as Sebastian talked. God. It felt so nice...so _right_. John was very seriously considering saying fuck it, and dragging the other man home with him, but he held his ground. “I've never actually been hunting before,” he said leaning slightly closer to Sebastian. “I suppose I did a bit of fowl when I was younger, with my father, but, it's been...twenty years?' He took another drink, suddenly feeling old.

            Sebastian nodded. John had mentioned that his father had died, and he wondered if it had been the drink that killed him, as it had killed Sebastian’s father. Well, the drink and a car. Stupid bastard. He decided not to bring it up, as the topic would be a mood killer, and John was looking so relaxed and content.

            He began gently massaging the back of John's neck with his fingers and thumb, taking a long drink of his coffee as he did so. "You should give bigger game a try sometime. It's exhilarating. There was this wild boar that I took down a few years ago, nearly gored me. Some say that wild boars are as dangerous a game as bears, and the scar in my thigh will attest to that. But it's so rewarding, when you bring down a beast that could have killed you, and hang it on your wall as a prize..."

He slowly slid his thumb up John's neck, up to the base of his hairline. Maybe he needed to back off a bit.

            John felt a pleasant current of electricity run up his spine as Sebastian’s fingers massaged his neck. His body was becoming increasingly rubbery, and he had a feeling he was slowly leaning ever closer toward Sebastian. “Yeah...yeah, I'd like that.” While John liked the rush of war, he wasn't fond of killing people. Animals, though—that could be fun. Under the right conditions. He leaned a bit into the other man's hand. Jesus, he knew what he was doing.

            Sebastian smiled. "Bet you would..." he said lowly, then caught himself and slowly slid his hand away from John. "Sorry. Moving fast. But, John, I was wondering...could we...I mean, would you be interested in...doing this again sometime?"

            John opened his eyes and smiled, relieved that Sebastian didn’t find him a waste of time. “Yeah. Yeah, I'd really like that. Tonight's been brilliant.” Surprisingly, so, he thought to himself as he finished off the rest of his coffee.

            Sebastian smiled, then lit up another cigarette, his other one gone to ash. "Good. You choose where we go next time. You can just give me a call or a text and we can set something up." He smiled at John over his lighter and then took another drag from his cigarette. He was glad John didn't mind his smoking, otherwise that would've been a deal breaker. It was bad enough that Jim didn't let him smoke around him. He released the smoke, letting it blossom out his lips to the ceiling.

            “Right, will do,” John said, standing up. Sebastian stood up too, pulling on his overcoat. He didn’t want to leave, but he figured he should give John some space.

            “How are you getting home?”

            “Taking the Tube—trying to cut back on unnecessary expenses,” John said as he stood and pulled on his own coat. 'Thanks though--and it was great meeting you...' Now what? Did they kiss? Hug? Shake hands? What was the protocol for first man-dates when they ended in a public place? John had absolutely no idea.

            "Want a lift? I drove. It's faster, and it'll save you a few pounds on your Oyster card. And it's a much smoother ride than the Tube, guaranteed." Sebastian smiled, now excited to show off his car. He'd bought it a few months ago, a black Audi R8, and rarely got to give others rides in it, besides Jim, who didn't care at all about cars.

            “Oh! Um...sure! That'd be fantastic, actually, thanks!” John smiled over at him and followed as Sebastian turned the other direction, heading back towards the restaurant.

            "I'm parked just here," Sebastian led John to his car and unlocked it, holding the passenger door open for him.

            “Holy shit! This is your car? This is fantastic. An R8, yeah?” John whistled as he looked it over, “I…might have to knock you out and steal this beauty from you.” He ran his hand over the top and looked over at Sebastian, grinning a bit. “Can't say I feel guilty that you paid for dinner now.”

            Sebastian laughed, pleased at John's enthusiasm. "It would be very ambitious of you to try and knock me out, little man." He got into the driver's side and buckled up. The darker side of him was tempted to knock _John_ out and just take him home without any more of this infernal waiting. He'd done his fair share of abductions in this car, but those people usually ended up tortured then dead. He felt protective of John, and wanted John to think the best of him. He would play the gentleman. "So. Where to?"

            “Baker Street,” John said, a bit distracted as his eyes slid over the dash, admiring the black, leather interior.

            Baker Street? A coincidence, surely. Sebastian had done a number of jobs around Baker Street lately, and Jim was always obsessing over it. He was fairly sure that Sherlock Holmes lived on Baker Street, although Jim never shared these sorts of details with Sebastian, and Sebastian frankly didn't care anyway.

            He shook his head and began talking to John about good local shooting ranges, and other good restaurants around the area. "Do you like dim sum? I know a few good places in your area. And some good Thai places. Anything spicy and I'm in."

            “There's an _excellent_ little Thai place just around the corner from me.” John smiled over as the drove, chatting about other good restaurants, settling on one for their next date that was over in Hammersmith.

            When they arrived, John found himself not wanting to get out of the car. “I had a lovely night...and uh...I look forward to seeing you again.” He hesitated, once again unsure of what to do before he unbuckled his seatbelt.

            "Yeah, me too." Sebastian looked back at the flat, then over at John. He couldn’t just let John go without doing something. In a swift decision, he unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned over, grabbing John’s tie to pull him close, and then locked his lips firmly with John’s.

            John raised his eyebrows in surprise as Sebastian grabbed his tie, turned on by his boldness. Sebastian’s kiss was firm but not pushy. There was no invasive tongue or persistent working open of John’s mouth. His lips were soft, and that paired with the slight bristle of his stubble and the faint taste of coffee and cigarettes on his breath, made John melt against him and he kissed back, a hand going to the side of Sebastian's face.

            Sebastian was surprised at the warmth of John's hand against his face. He could have kept kissing for a long time, but he finally forced himself to pull away, looking into John's eyes. "Call me," he murmured, his lips still so close to John's that he could feel John's breath.

            “I will,” John said a bit breathlessly. He couldn't help but go in for one last, small kiss, lingering just a moment before he tore himself away and exited the car. He bit his lip as he tried to keep an almost painfully wide smile off his face and headed up to the flat.

            Sebastian watched until John had shut the door to the flat, then drove off, a goofy grin on his face the whole way home. He felt absurdly happy. His first ever date that hadn’t ended with a fuck, and it had all been so very worth it. He couldn’t wait to see John again.

 

 

 


	2. Tiger's Den

John wanted to call Sebastian again immediately, but forced himself to wait two torturous days, not wanting to come off as too desperate.

            Sebastian looked excitedly at his phone when he saw that John was calling. His hands still bloody from a recent job, he hurriedly wiped them off and answered. "Wondered when I'd hear from you,” he said, keeping his voice casual, verging on boredom.

            “Sorry to make you wait. I’ve been busy with work,” John lied. The clinic had  been dead the past couple of days. “Are we still on for Thai? I’m free tonight.” God, he hoped he didn’t sound too eager.

            Sebastian smiled. “I’m free tonight. I’ll pick you up at half past six?”

            “Brilliant—see you then!” John felt like doing a happy dance around his desk. He couldn't remember the last time someone had made him feel this way. He hung up his phone and checked his watch again. Thirty seconds had passed. Fan-bloody-tastic. This would be a long couple of hours.

 

            Sebastian rolled up in his Audi, his heart skipping a beat when he saw John. He rolled down the window to greet John, unsure of how to greet him in a way that let him know how good it felt to see him again without coming off as creepy. All he managed was a "hi" and a grin.

            John couldn't keep a wide smile off his face. “Hi,” he said, walking around to get into the car. He climbed in and smiled over at him as he buckled his belt. He was trying his hardest not to act giddy as Sebastian looked over at him with a sexy smile, taking him all in. It was unbelievable, really; one look from this man and Lady-Killer, Three-Continents Watson found himself melting into a helpless puddle.

 

            At the restaurant, the conversation flowed endlessly over guns and military jokes and stories from their jobs (though Sebastian’s stories needed a bit of editing to keep his precise occupation hidden). Sebastian found it so easy to talk to John, which was remarkable. he was usually a terse man, but he found himself talking without a moment’s pause to consider what to say next. Their talk flowed as easily as their drinks.

            There was a bit more handholding, and a bit more blushing, and even a bit of footsy, and by the end of the meal, John wanted nothing more than to have the other sweep him off his feet and tote him home for the evening.

            Sebastian insisted on paying again, but relented when John wanted to pay for drinks. "Are you drunk, John? Because if you are, goody for me. If you're not....you could give the Audi a spin."

            John gave a little chuckle as he finished off his gin and tonic. “I cannot tell you how much I would like to drive, but I'm worried that we will end up wrapped around a lamp post if I do.” He sighed and set down the glass. His cheeks were a bit flushed, but it was from the alcohol this time.

            "God, you're sexy." The words spilled out before Sebastian could stop them. He laughed and ran his fingers through his hair. "So. Shall we head out? I need a smoke." He moved his foot against John's ankle.

            John's cheeks flushed from something entirely separate from the alcohol this time, and he put a hand over his face to keep from giggling. He looked up at him and nodded, nudging his foot back before he stood.

            Sebastian stepped outside and immediately lit up, blowing the smoke through his nose. "Look, John, do you want to come back to mine? I know you want to take it slow, and that's fine. But I thought you might be interested in seeing my gun collection..." He flicked his cigarette ash on the sidewalk then stepped closer to John, leaning down so his lips were close to John's neck. "No funny business, I promise."

            John's eyes slid down to his lips, and back up to his eyes, “Mm. And do you ever break promises, Sebastian?”

            Sebastian cracked a grin and looked straight into John's eyes. "Only all the time, John Watson." He took a step closer, wrapped his hands around the curve of John's lower back and pulled him close to kiss him, opening his mouth a bit more this time, tasting John's lips. John felt so good against him. He hoped to God John wasn't going to tense up and run back to Baker Street. When he pulled away—

"Maybe that's information I shouldn't disclose so early in the dating process."

            John smiled against the kiss. “Well, I'd be lying if I said I was disappointed if you broke this particular promise…” John trailed off, moving back closer to him, his lips just barely brushing against the other's.

            Sebastian hungrily caught John's lips in his own again, pulling him closer. Yes, John was fantastic to hold close, all of his soft and firm places so touchable. He ran his hands down John's back as he kissed him a bit more fervently and felt John melt against him. John’s lips worked with against Sebastian’s, and a small moan escaped John as his tongue slid into the other’s mouth to explore. His arms went up to wrap around Sebastian's shoulders and neck as he pressed against him.

            Sebastian sighed into John's mouth, then forced himself to pull away and smile down at the man. "Well. Shall we continue this somewhere off the streets?" Jim was out tonight. They could have the townhouse to themselves.

            “My flatmate's in...can we go to yours?” John asked, placing a light, lingering kiss on his lips. His heart pounded just at the thought of being alone with Sebastian in a private setting.

            Neither of them talked or touched during the ride to Sebastian’s place, but the car interior crackled with electricity and anticipation. Sebastian was, surprisingly, enjoying this slower seduction. John was worth the wait. He couldn't help grinning to himself as he got out of the car, took a final long pull of his cigarette—no smoking allowed in the house, Jim’s law—and unlocked the front door. "Wait till you see the gun collection. And I've got some scotch that makes Lagavulin taste like horse piss in comparison."

            John looked up at the elegant townhouse. “Wow. Maybe I should get into freelance body-guarding,” he said wryly, then followed Sebastian in. His eyes widened further at the luxurious interior. “This…is... _amazing_.”

            Sebastian grinned. "Can't say I'm responsible for it looking so good. This room, however..." He pushed open the door to _his_ room, the room Jim had given him, not as a bedroom, but as a retreat. In it was his extensive gun and hunting gear collection, several mounted heads of exotic big game, fine leather furniture, enough scotch to intoxicate a football team for weeks, and Sebastian’s prize possession, a large tiger skin rug,

            “Oh my giddy aunt...” John murmured in awe as he stepped in. His eyes danced around the room, taking in the fine leather furniture, the large gun case, and the rug stretched in front of a fireplace big enough to stand in. He brushed his hand over the back of one of the chairs, and grinned at Sebastian. “I hope you know you're going to have to drag me out of here to get me to leave.”

            Sebastian raised an eyebrow. "I can live with that." His heart was...goddamn it, was it _fluttering_? Did he have a fucking _crush_?! He cleared his throat and strode over to a carafe of scotch, pouring them both glasses. "Taste this right now," he demanded.

            John's eyes narrowed a bit and he swirled the liquid around in his cup. “What is it?” he asked curiously, but took a sip before Sebastian could answer. It was the smoothest, most delicious scotch he'd ever had.

            "Chivas Regal Royal Salute," Sebastian said, savoring a sip from his own glass. "50 years old. _Not_ cheap." He sipped again, then clarified, "£8000."

            “Holy shit! I-I—“ John set the glass back down. “I can't drink this. Don't waste it on the likes me, this is...Jesus, that's my paycheck for two to three _months_! Save that up for a special occasion,” John said taking a little step back. God, he wished he could afford to buy himself a bottle of that.

            Sebastian grabbed John by the collar and pulled him forward, thrusting the glass back into his hand. His voice grew low and threatening, the kind of voice he used in interrogations. "You. Listen. Here. When I drink, I drink alone. If I'm sharing this with you...that means this is a special occasion." He released John's shirt.

            John's mouth hung open for a moment as Sebastian yanked him forward and shoved the glass back into his mouth. He blinked in surprise, unsure of what to say, but his heart was hammering, and he couldn’t say whether it was from excitement or fear. “I...yeah...yeah, okay,” he muttered, taking another sip and a small step back.

            Sebastian couldn't help but be aroused by the astonished look in John's eyes, but he also wondered if he'd come on a little too harshly. "Sorry, erm—shall we sit?" He parked John in a leather chair and got a fire going, sardonically hoping John was admiring the view of his ass.

            John was indeed enjoying the view, but at the same time was trying to figure out what had just happened. Sebastian clearly had a darker side, but then again, didn't everyone in the army? John pursed his lips and took another small sip of the scotch. He idly wondered if Sebastian was rough like that in the bedroom. His lips twitched to a quick smile. He sort of hoped so. “Did you kill it?” he asked, “The tiger, I mean?”

            “Yeah." Sebastian stood up in front of the strong, crackling fire, turning back to John. "I was posted in Myanmar back in ‘95, and I saw this beauty. I felt a...well, sounds idiotic, but I felt a kinship with it." He looked down at the rug. This tiger was the reason he had a big leaping tiger tattooed across his back. "So what do you do when you develop a kinship with something? You kill it." He grinned wolfishly at John, then hastily added, "I'm joking. Of course." He smiled. "I most certainly am not going to kill you."

            John raised an eyebrow and gave a little chortle, “That's good news. Is that a promise?” he asked.

            Sebastian stepped until he was standing over John's chair. "Yeah. It's a promise. So. Want to get a closer look at some of these guns? I know you do..."

            Sebastian showed John his favorite models, but he was much more enjoying their closeness. He could simply seize John right now and take him hard on the rug, and he got the impression John would let that happen, but instead he crept up behind John while he was inspecting a gun and slid his hands on John's hips, beginning to kiss the side of his neck. He tasted fantastic. Sebastian grew harder just thinking about what the rest of John would be like.

            John slowed and paused as he felt Sebastian sidle up behind him and place his hands on his hips. His breath caught as he felt the other man's lips lightly press against the side of his neck, and he felt his knees growing weak. He carefully set down the gun he was holding and turned around to face him. “You've got a stunning collection,” he murmured.

            "Do I?" Sebastian took a step closer, raising an eyebrow, his hands and lips itching to be on John again.

            “You do,” he breathed, leaning forward a bit, his eyes sinking to Sebastian's lips and then up to his eyes again. He wetted his lips, feeling himself growing hard already.

            Sebastian couldn't bear it anymore. He yanked John close to him, their lips almost touching, and growled, "Tease," then kissed John deeply, stepping forward to push him backwards against a wall.

            John grunted, but kissed Sebastian back hungrily. His hands went to grab at the nape of Sebastian's neck and his jacket, pulling him closer.

            Sebastian let John for a moment, then grabbed his shoulders and spun him around, shoving his chest up against the wall and straddling John's legs, hands pinning John's wrists tightly as he sniffed, licked and bit at John's neck and ears, making animalistic noises.

            John's breath caught as he was spun around and slammed against the wall. God, Sebastian was feral. If John didn't take the time to think about how weird it was, he was oddly turned on by it, and so he shoved the thoughts from his mind. He moaned and hissed in breaths before pushing his hips back against Sebastian's.

            Sebastian moved John's wrists above his hand so he could hold them with one of his large hands, then the other slid down John's back and began yanking at his shirt to untuck it, pushing the fabric up so he could slide his hand up John's bare skin, caressing his side and stomach, then sliding it up to his chest as he kissed and bit John's neck. "I want you, John—you can drive a man crazy, you know that?" he murmured into John's skin.

            “Oh—fuck—“ John gasped as Sebastian's rough hand ran over his skin. He tugged lightly at his hands. He could probably break his hold—if he wanted to, that is. “You can have me,” he breathed, pushing back against him again. So much for holding off or taking things slow.

            Sebastian grunted and pushed his hips against John's, keeping his lower body pinned while he began stripping off John's jumper and shirt, yanking them off his head. He admired John's back, running his fingers down John's spine and kissing along his shoulder before spinning him around to face him again. His eyes blazed with unmistakable lust as he stared into John's eyes

            John's heart was pounding in his chest and he reached forward to start pulling at Sebastian's clothes, tearing them off and dropping them to the floor. Once his chest was bare, John pressed up against him, the contact of their skin making them both gasp. He lightly bit at Sebastian's lower lip and his hands slid down to start unbuckling the other's trousers.

            Sebastian groaned into John's mouth, loving John's hands on him. He ducked to kiss at John's scar, gripping his hips. "No exit wound...this must've hurt..." he licked circles along it, then bit it, digging his nails into John's hips.

            John clenched his teeth and hissed in a breath. “It _did_.” He dragged his nails across Sebastian's back and licked up his jaw, then bit and drew out Sebastian's lip again. “Well? What're you waiting for?” he growled.

            Sebastian shut him up with a kiss, tearing at his belt buckle, but tensed and froze as the sound of the front door slamming. Fuck. _FUCK_ , this was not happening. 

"Seb?" Jim's voice called from outside the room.

"Shit. John, you've got to stay in here, hide—somewhere—" he said, desperately shoving him away, rebuckling his trousers. What the hell was Jim doing back early?

            “Wha...?—who's _that_?!” John hissed, glancing towards the door. He snatched up his jumper and shirt, yanking them back on. Jesus, he was hard. Was Sebastian cheating on someone with him?? Was _that_ why he'd been so quick to assume he and Sherlock were a couple? John grit his teeth, and sunk down in a small space behind the gun case as Sebastian hurriedly crossed towards the door.

            "It's my boss," Sebastian hissed. "Do not move." He opened the door and Jim pushed his way in. "Hey, Jim...didn't think you'd be back so early. I was just having a scotch. Join me?" He hoped to God Jim said no.

            Jim rolled his neck, cracking it and boredly looked past him into the room, and raised an eyebrow. “Already poured me one, did you, Sebby? Adoorable…” He pushed his way in and walked over to John's glass, downing it.

            John would've known that voice anywhere, and his heart stopped. Jim Moriarty. 


	3. Mercy

John’s heart stopped. He was in _Jim Moriarty’s_ house. He clenched his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to get ahold of himself as the dark-haired Irishman walked into view.

            “Cambridge and Hatsfield are dead, I presume?” he asked, setting the scotch glass down and looking towards the fire.

            "Yes," Sebastian said tersely. He forced himself to sit down and look calm. Jim would be able to see through him in a second if he showed any sign of nervousness. God, if Jim knew he was _dating_ someone, Sebastian would never hear the end of it. "I was just settling in for a relaxing evening. I thought I'd polish my guns...maybe sharpen the old Bowie knives…" He tried to make his evening sound as dull as possible.

            The ploy seemed to work. Jim rolled his eyes. “Dull. Well, I've got work to do—meeting with the Iranian Ambassador tomorrow. Good for nothing, incompetent moron.” He sniffed dismissively and brushed a hand through his hair, slicking it back a bit. “I'll leave you to your devices—shoot another hole in my wall and I'll have you castrated. Also, remember that you have a job tomorrow afternoon.  I'll leave the file on my desk.” He brushed off a shoulder of his suit and turned back towards the door, exiting.

            John was crouched over, his hand clamped over his mouth during the entire time Jim was in the room. When he heard Jim leave, he stayed frozen, although his heart was hammering against his chest. What did this mean? Had Sebastian tricked him this entire time? _Why_? John didn’t know which emotion had taken the forefront of his mind: fear, confusion, hurt, or rage.

            He heard Sebastian heave a sigh. "John? I'm so sorry about that. You can come out now. My boss...I wasn't expecting him to come back so early." He walked over to where John was hiding.

             John felt like a caged animal as he looked up at Sebastian with entirely new eyes. He backed against the wall, still crouching. “Jim Moriarty?” he finally spat out. “ _Jim Moriarty_ is your ‘boss’? What the hell is this? A trap? A trick? Is this the part after you lure me to your place and then slit my throat?!”

             Sebastian's jaw dropped open, then he narrowed his eyes and yanked John to his feet. "How do you know Jim Moriarty?" he hissed, not wanting Jim to hear through the wall. "That's not a name that gets tossed around! _Who are you_?!"

             John jerked as Sebastian yanked him upwards, suddenly not finding the man handling sexy so much as terrifying and he shoved himself away from him and took a step back towards the door. “I don't know what your game is, but you stay away from me, and you stay away from Sherlock!”

            “Sherlock _Holmes_?!" Sebastian had to fight to keep from raising his voice. "You know _Sherlock Holmes_?" This was too much.

             “Hilarious!” John spat in disdain. “I talk about my genius flatmate and how I help him with crime solving on Baker Street, and you conveniently didn't put the pieces together? Stay away from me.” John cast Sebastian a look of loathing and turned to walk out.

            He didn't even know if he could get out of the place, but he was sure as hell going to try. How could he have been such an idiot? Sherlock would've deduced who this man was by day one. John had never felt more stupid, more hurt, or more betrayed in his life. He had liked Sebastian, he really, really had. He should have known it was too good to be true.

            “John, you can’t just leave,” Sebastian said. He was completely conflicted. What were the fucking odds? He would have to kill him. John knew where Jim lived, and with how mad John was now, there was no way he was going to keep it a secret from that nosy detective he was cozied up to. He strode over to John and yanked him away from the door. “I’m sorry, John.” And he was, even as he looked down darkly at John, preventing him from leaving. Why did it have to be this way?

            "Between Jim and I, there's no way you're getting out of here alive." Usually when he said things like this to someone he had a gleeful smile on his face. Now he just felt awful. He didn't want to kill this man, despite everything. But John would tell fucking Sherlock Holmes everything, and that would be the end. That couldn't happen.

            John’s stomach dropped. So this was it, then. The man hadn’t even tried to deny his role with Moriarty. Here he’d gone, opening his vulnerable heart up to Sebastian—stupid, _stupid_! Would Sherlock mourn his death, or would he just shake his head at what an astounding idiot John had been?

            Sebastian had locked the door and had picked up the Browning he’d been showing to John earlier. His exterior was calm as he loaded the bullets into the catridge, but inside he was in turmoil.

            John looked around the room for some way of escape. He could fight—military service had given him that, but Sebastian was more experienced _and_ far larger. And armed. John clenched his jaw. All the cards were against him.

            “I’ll have to explain the mess to Jim somehow,” Sebastian muttered aloud, more to himself than anything. He’d need to think of some story that didn’t involve him being duped into a date by Jim’s rival’s sidekick.

            “Yeah, well, I can’t really say I feel for you,” John said coldly.

            Sebastian attached a silencer to the gun and trained the barrel on John’s forehead. “I really did like you, you know…”

            John closed his eyes and took in a deep, unsteady breath. He wanted to stay calm, to die fearless. He didn’t want to go out like this, betrayed, emotionally wounded, with tears threatening to fall and a knot at the pit of his stomach. “ _Shut up_ —just...just stop acting! You've won, just do it,” he choked out. He squeezed his hands into fists and forced himself to open his eyes and stare past the barrel at Sebastian. It wasn't fair, he thought. He'd survived a war, only to come home, meet someone he really liked and then have them kill him. It was twisted. “...Just do it...' he murmured, his blue eyes locking with Sebastian’s gray ones.

             Sebastian stroked the trigger with his finger. One flick and it would be over. John was right—he needed to do it. When John met his eyes, though, his finger wouldn’t budge. Cursing under his breath, he stepped back, keeping the gun trained at John. "Now listen carefully," he said, his voice low and taut. "I am going to go out of this room. When you hear a gunshot, you leave this room, get outside and hail the first cab you see. You will stay the fuck away from this place, and if you breathe a word of this location to Sherlock, your life is mine. Got it?"

            John stared at Sebastian in disbelief, then at the gun barrel as it lowered to the carpet. He was going to let him go? Why? Did he want a moving target? “You're letting me go?” he asked aloud.

             "Yes, dammit," Sebastian said through clenched teeth. This was disgraceful. He was weak, not being able to kill someone who posed a known threat. He gave John a final look. He wanted, as idiotic as it sounded, to be able to see him again, but this would likely be the last time. It had _better_ be the last time—he didn't want to be faced with the prospect of killing this man. "Goodbye, John," he said, then disappeared out the door and went upstairs and promptly fired a bullet into the bathroom wall. That would distract Jim for a while. He hoped to God John was running for the door, and he also hoped that Jim didn't keep his word on castration.

             As soon as John heard the gunshot, he slipped through the door, and silently and quickly made his way to the front door, heading out and quietly closed it behind him. His heart was pounding in his chest. Maybe it had been real, then? Why else would Sebastian let him go? Why hadn’t he just shot him?

            John's head whirred as the cab sped back towards Baker Street, and he still felt shaken when he climbed the steps. Sherlock wasn't there, and it was just as well, John didn't wanted to be bombarded by a barrage of questions he didn't want to answer and didn't know how to. So, he went immediately up to his room, and curled up into his bed, only taking the time to remove his shoes and jacket.

 

             Sebastian forced a grin as Jim stormed in, furious. "I saw a roach, boss."

             “You fucking piece of shit!” Jim growled, examining the hole in the wall. “What the FUCK did I tell you?! I swear to _God_ if I didn't need you for that hit tomorrow, I'd slice your balls off and shove then down your throat—NOW GET OUT!” he roared, eyes black with malice.

             Sebastian obeyed gladly. He'd gotten off easy. Thank God he had a job tomorrow. He wondered if John had made it back safe, then immediately chided himself for thinking of him. The man was the enemy. He just hoped he kept his mouth shut.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're enjoying it so far! Since I have it all typed up already (for the most part) I aim to publish a new chapter every day this month, then every other day next month. Since this is a marathon fic (44 chapters--woof), and since I'll be on a road trip from Jan 31-Feb 7, that means the fic should be complete by March 15, assuming I stay on schedule. Thanks for reading, and do let me know what you think!


	4. Stitches

            Sebastian limped out of the alleyway. He could feel the blood from the deep cut on his back soaking through his t-shirt underneath his leather jacket. He needed stitches, he knew already. The bastard who cut him better not have sliced into his tiger tattoo, or there would be hell to pay. Then again, the bastard was already dead. Jim, who usually saw to his wounds or arranged for them to get taken care of discretely, was in Rome today chatting with some cardinals. There was a clinic not far from here—Sebastian reckoned he could walk in and get patched up without much fuss if he tossed enough money at them.

 

            John had buried himself in his work ever since the ordeal with Sebastian Moran the Traitor and Heart-Crusher two weeks ago. Underneath all of John’s anger and hatred for the man, however, he still felt wounded, and there was a fragment of hope still lurking there against John’s will. Why had Sebastian let him go? John found himself foolishly hoping, against all odds or logic, that Sebastian really was a decent man, that he really did like John.

            He had gotten increasingly burying these thoughts as the days went on, and Sebastian wasn’t on his mind at all as he hurried down the hallway of the clinic to the room where a man who needed stitches was waiting. John pulled on some gloves as he opened the door.

            “All right, Mr. Weston, we’ll get you fixed…up…” John’s words died as he found himself staring at Sebastian Moran. He was seated on the medical table, shirt removed, and a nurse was applying pressure to the wound on his back.

            “Thank you, Stephanie, I’ll take it from here,” John finally managed faintly, ad the nurse nodded and headed out, leaving the two of them to stare at each other in shock.

             Sebastian had tensed every muscle when John walked in. What were teh fucking odds? He glanced toward his folded-up jacket on the chair, where his gun was tucked away. “John—“ he finally managed, in way of terse acknowledgement.

            John clenched his jaw. “Mr. Weston, could you please lay on your stomach?” He couldn’t acknowledge that Sebastian Moran was here. He would just pretend it wasn’t happening, pretend that he hadn’t spent the past two week trying to get over this stupid man.

            Sebastian watched him carefully, then did as he was told, baring his muscled back, the long knife wound, and his large tiger tattoo. "Did you tell Sherlock?" he asked.

             John's jaw stayed taut and he swallowed as he looked down at the tattoo. He wanted to run his hand along it, but instead, he went to get the needle ready. The wound had already been cleaned. He ignored Sebastian's question. “What happened? This is a nasty wound.” John knew perfectly well how Sebastian had gotten such a deep slice. A sharp knife and a broad slash, but John preferred to feign ignorance.

             Sebastian craned his neck to glare up at John. "The guy I was supposed to kill put up a fight. But I got him in the end. People never get away from me," he said meaningfully. "So there you have it, John. I kill people for a living. Recoil in horror now." He flexed the muscles in his back, not looking forward to being stitched up by someone who hated him.

             John let out a small huff of air though his nose. “After seeing who you worked for, I figured out fairly quickly what your ‘bodyguarding’ entails. Any recoiling was taken care of a while ago. This is going to sting a bit.” John hovered the curved needle above Sebastian’s gash, a nasty part of him wanting to careless gouge the needle in and make Sebastian hurt through it all. The rational, doctor part of him wouldn’t let his emotions obstruct the ethics of the job, however. He carefully and precisely began to stitch the other man up.

            Sebastian tensed as the needle went in, but relaxed a bit as he felt John workig quickly and with minimal pain. The man knew what he was doing, he could feel that much. "You never answered my question, John Watson. Did you tell Sherlock about Jim? About me?"

            “Seventeen stitches and I’m only halfway done...you should really be more careful. This will need time to mend. Clean it twice a day for a week, once a day for a week after that and in about three weeks, come back here and I'll check to make sure they're ready to come out.” If he was even alive that long, that was.

             Sebastian snapped, ignoring the pain as he twisted over to face John and yanked him down by his tie. " _Did you tell him_?!" He could feel the other man's breath against his face. He twisted the tie a bit, choking him. He was furious with John all the more because, in some other world, this could've worked. They could've—fuck it, it was no use thinking about what could have been. He shoved away the wishful thinking and waited for John’s answer.

             John's eyes went wide and he choked in surprise and his voice was strained and rough as he gasped, “No!”

             Sebastian released him, then sat up, pulling at his stitches, which were only halfway done. "Good. I’m glad to know that you’re not an idiot." He got up, furious, unable to stand lying underneath John's hands any longer. He'd go somewhere else to get stitched up. "You can drive a man crazy, you know that?" he said as he grabbed his shirt off the chair. Both of the men flinched, remembering the last time Sebastian had said that, breathing into John’s skin with lust.

             John was doubled over, coughing and gasping in air, a hand at his throat. He glared at Sebastian as he slowly straightened up, his chest still heaving. “I know.” He watched his back for a moment. “You should let me finish stitching that up.”

             Sebastian dropped his shirt back on the chair, whirled around, and grabbed John’s shoulders. "And then what? And then what, John? You'll let me go my separate way? You'll let me go back to my boss, and we'll just...keep out of each other's lives?" Could he live with that? He still wanted John, despite everything. Somehow, knowing that he was the enemy made him want him even more.

             John faltered. “I...I don't know...yes! We just—we stop! We just stay off each other's radar! We go our separate ways...” he trailed off, knowing it was a shite plan. Their "separate ways" would inevitably lead back together at some point in the future, seeing how intertwined Moriarty and Sherlock’s ambitions were.

             "Could you live with yourself, John? Knowing you'd let a killer go? Knowing that you could've stopped Moriarty from hurting your do-good detective?" He imagined that the only reason why he hadn't told Sherlock yet was out of fear, and that would eventually wear off. They'd find a way, and then they'd come after Jim, and there would be deaths. He stepped closer to John.

            John almost yelled at him, “I'm sick of being strung along—if you're just going to kill me in the end to save Moriarty's neck, then just _do it_.” For God’s sake, John would almost welcome death! Between his feelings for Sebastian, his loyalty to Sherlock, and his loathing for Moriarty, he didn’t know what to do or where he stood and it was infuriating, maddening.

             Sebastian seized him by the throat and shoved him up against the wall. "I should, you know!" Why had he chosen this clinic? Why hadn’t he shot John immediately back at the den? It would make everything so fucking simple.

            The shorter man was gasping and grappling at Sebastian’s hand, trying to pry him off, his blue eyes wide and desperate. Sebastian eased up his hand slightly, allowing John some breath as he pressed into him. He felt a small, sly current of electricity run through him at being in such close proximity to John again, and he hardly knew what he was doing when he leaned in and kissed him forcefully, hungrily pushing his tongue into his mouth as John let out a gasp of surprise.

            John let out a soft cry of protest and alarm as Sebastian pushed in to kiss him, but the moment Sebastian’s tongue found its way into John’s mouth, it was as if a switch had been flipped, and John was kissing Sebastian back, pressing into the other man’s hand, which was still around his throat. He let out a soft, desperate moan against Sebastian’s lips and bit down on the lower one, drawing it out.

             "We can't do this, John," Sebastian said, even as he grabbed at John's hair, his lips never straying far from John's. He wanted to devour this man right here in the office.

            “You’re right, we can’t,” John said breathlessly, licking up Sebastian’s neck.

            Sebastian closed his eyes and tightened his fingers in John’s hair. This was so wrong. Fooling around unexpectedly with his enemy, in a doctor’s office no less; it was turning him on it ways it shouldn’t, and from the feel of John pressed against him, he wasn’t the only one.

            “Ahh, but you give yourself away, doctor,” he growled, letting his hand brush over John’s erection. “You _are_ into danger, aren’t you?” He began palming and fondling him through his trousers.

            John gasped, his heart speeding up, and he pushed his hips forward into Sebastian’s hand. “Nghh—yes,” he panted. “And _you_ apparently have a doctor kink.” John tilted his head back, lips parted, and he grabbed Sebastian’s hips to yank him closer. Sebastian pulled backwards, taking John with him towards the patient’s counter. He hauled John up so he was sitting on the counter, then yanked on John’s tie to pull him in for another kiss. “Shut up,” he growled, his hands rubbing along John’s thighs.

            John's hands slid over Sebastian's bare back, making sure to avoid the new stitches and pulled him closer to him. One of his hands went down and began to grope at Sebastian's hard cock.

             Sebastian grunted at the feel of John's hand. He wanted to fuck John right now, but they were hardly in a position or a place for it. Too many clothes, not enough time. He began ripping at his own belt, still kissing John. "Touch me," he ordered, then began yanking at John's belt and fly. Hardly ideal, but he was so worked up he didn't care. He needed some sort of release.

             John didn’t hesitate before sliding his hand down Sebastian’s trousers to grab at his cock, feeling its length in curiosity before he started pumping at it, leaning in to kiss him again.

             Sebastian groaned into John's mouth, then bit at John's tongue and lips, sliding his hand inside John's pants and grasping at his cock, massaging it, palming his balls, then began pumping as well, his hand rough, his thumb running over the head. "Touch the wound," he demanded into John's mouth. "Dig your nails into it—" As he said it, he dug the nails of his own free hand into John's thigh. “You want to, don’t you?”

             John grunted and reached his hand around as he continued to pump. He gave his balls a light squeeze before he dug his nails into the man's stab wound.

            Sebastian hissed in pain and arousal at the combination of the searing wound and John's hand on his cock. He bit down hard on John neck as he increased the speed of his hand, gripping at John's arse to pulling him closer. "God, yes—" he grunted, close to orgasm already.

             John pulled Sebastian’s head up to kiss him once more, then pushed him backwards a bit, allowing John room to hop off the examination table and sink to his knees. He pulled Sebastian’s cock from his trousers and leaned forward to suck in as much of Sebastian as he could manage, moaning around it and grabbing onto Sebastian’s arse.

             The sight and feeling of John's, his date's, his enemy's, his doctor’s, warm mouth engulfing him was too much. He bit back a loud groan and tangled his hands in John's hair.

             John had only given head a few times before in his life, so he hoped it wasn't going to put Sebastian off. His let his tongue glide over his prick, doing sinful things to the underside of his cock, all the while grabbing and kneading his arse.

             Sebastian twisted his hands harder into John's hair. Pleasure volted through him. "John—I’m coming," he moaned, giving John time to pull away. He came with a loud groan, shooting onto the floor as John rose next to him.

             Sebastian leaned weakly against the table. "I wasn't expecting that," he admitted breathlessly, then grabbed John's jaw and pulled him in for another rough kiss. "Tell you what...you patch me up, doc, and I'll be sure you're properly rewarded.”

            John raised an eyebrow, his cock aching. “Oh...is that so...? And how are planning on rewarding me?” he asked a bit breathily, wrapping his arms around the taller man’s neck.

            Sebastian kept a grip on John's chin, then reached a hand up to yank painfully at his hair. "Do you always need things spelled out for you, John?" He licked up the side of John's face, relishing how John hissed in a breath, then Sebastian settled himself back onto the examination table. "Now patch me up, like a good doctor."

            John picked up the needle and thread from where they had been torn off by the other man, and started up where he had left off, his hands a trifle less steady.

             Sebastian smiled into the table, still unable to believe that this was really happening. "Do you want to know what I'm going to do to you? Actually, maybe I shouldn't tell you. I don't want your hands trembling while you're working on me. Unless you're a _very_ good doctor and think you could handle it.”

             'I'm an excellent, doctor, I assure you...' John mumbled as he tried to concentrate. He had never tried giving stitches with a raging hard-on before. His stitches were still nice, but slightly less even than they had been ten minutes before.

             "I'm going to sneak up on you, John. Catch you off guard. I will sniff you out like prey and then I will own you. And the best part is, you'll beg me to." Sebastian smirked and flexed his hips a bit at the thought. His voice changed from a smoldering menace to a more conversational tone, then back again. "I'll be honest, I haven't worked out the details yet...but I can guarantee that you'll be utterly helpless, and that you'll be screaming my name for a long, long time as you slowly unravel into a hot, sweaty mess."

             John faltered a bit, finding the thought of Sebastian hunting and stalking him like some sort of prey oddly and surprisingly arousing. His heart hammered. He had no doubt that Sebastian's would make good of his word. “Ah....I see—“ he managed, trying to keep his voice as even as his stitches.

             "How am I patching, doctor?" Sebastian wickedly changed the subject.

             “Er, fine. They look fine.” John knotted off the final one. “All finished.”

             Sebastian rolled to his side and stood up. He felt at the stitches with his hand. "Fine work, doc. I should come to you more often." He pulled on his shirt, wincing as he did so. The blood on it had congealed unpleasantly. Good thing it was dark enough that you couldn't see the stain unless you were close. He looked pointedly at the mess he’d made on the floor. “Looks like you have a situation to take care of.” His eyes flicked to John’s erection and he grinned. “Make that two.” Sebsatian gingerly pulled on his jacket and walked to the door. "Oh, and John,” he added lightly. “Tell Sherlock about _any_ of this, and I will kill you."

            He left, whistling. Oh, this was very interesting. What the fuck had he just done? Still...they could keep it quiet...their two geniuses need never know. Two geniuses. Fuck. He shoved the thought out of his head and turned his thoughts instead to all of the things he wanted to do to John Watson.

            John was left in a hot, flustered mess. He cleaned up the floor, then hurried back to his office, locked the door, and took care of his problem into a tissue behind his desk, making him five minutes late for his next appointment. The rest of his day felt surreal, and John went through the rest of work distracted, conflicted, and completely infatuated with the thought of seeing the impossible, dangerous, irresistible Sebastian again.

 


	5. Prey

            Jim noted with boredom that Sebastian was in a good mood when he came home that day, and it was true. Sebastian was elated, practically manic from the insanity of what had just happened. He just had to plan how he was going to get Doctor Watson alone. He couldn't bring him back to the house, not after what had happened last time. Fortunately, he knew lots of secluded places where nobody could hear you scream. Some of them even had beds. And he could enlist help if needed.

            Several weeks went by before he had a night off and could pull off his plan. He just needed to make sure that it didn't alert the attention of Jim or Sherlock. 

            John hadn’t forgotten about Sebastian’s “reward,” and as the days turned into weeks, he became increasingly jumpy.

            One Friday night, John he the clinic late to find a familiar Audi waiting for him. Sebastian. He was surprised, then, when two men he’d never seen before stepped out and grabbed him before he could run. They blindfolded John, bound his hands and feet with zip ties, and bundled him into the car.           

            John prayed to God that this was Sebastian’s doing. When his face hit the leather of the car’s seat, he growled, and tried kicking at his captors, writhing his bound wrists behind his back. “Let me go! Who the hell are you?”

            Sebastian was in the driver’s seat. He cracked a grin as the men gripped the struggling doctor. Oh, this was too fun.

            John’s heart was pounding as the car took off. He prayed to God that this was Sebastian’s doing. He signaled one of the men to gag him, and watched through the rearview mirror as they shoved a gag into the writhing man's mouth. He took the longer route to their destination, enjoying John's muffled noises and the sight of him helpless. And this was just the appetizer.

            John yelled and struggled and cursed into the gag, but it did no good. He had been rendered immobile and he couldn’t make a single intelligible syllable. He paused only briefly when he felt the car slow to a stop before he resumed his struggling.

             Sebastian maneuvered himself out of the car, being careful to hide his erection from the other men. He nodded a thanks to them, then grabbed John and hauled him over his shoulders, carried him inside the building and enjoying the feel of John's arse under his hands in the meantime.

             John continued to squirm and yell into the gag. There was only one man now, and he was positive that it was Sebastian, the way the man kept grabbing at him. Knowing the two of them were finally together and alone, John could feel his erection slowly starting to come on.

             Sebastian felt John's erection press against his back and laughed. "Ohh, John, is that what you think this is? You are so wrong..." He was really being evil, Sebastian chided himself. But he wanted John to properly scared, at least at first.

            John’s stomach churned. What did he _mean_ that’s not what this was?

            Sebastian opened the door to a room and flopped John down onto the bed, then rolled him onto his stomach and immediately tied his wrists to his ankles, hogtying him. He whipped off John's blindfold, then raised John's chin with his hand so that John's neck was craned up uncomfortably to look at him. "Well, John. Here we are...and how are you feeling?"

             John gave him an indignant look and bit hard on the gag. He wanted to know what the hell was going on. He wanted this to be all fun and games, and he was still excited, but there was a twinge of real fear beneath it all.

             "Staying quiet, huh? Well, I kept my word, didn't I? I hunted you down..." Sebastian reached into his pocket and pulled out his gun, casually loading the gun with bullets. "And as someone who enjoys the thrill of the chase, I was a bit disappointed: you were such easy prey." He clicked the cylinder back in place and stroked the gun down John's face. "Were you really so lonely and horny that you never bothered to wonder if your enemy's right hand man might not want what he said he wanted?"

             John's stomach lurched and plummeted downwards as Sebastian stroked the gun down the other side of his face. Oh my God...what had he done? Sebastian was right. Had he really been that lonely and desperate? He had. His heartbeat quickened, but this time it wasn't because of arousal—his erection was gone. He bit down hard on the gag. Was _this_ how he was going to die? Tied up and gagged in a location he didn't even know? He glared up at Sebastian, jerking away from the gun.

             "I was hoping the hunt would go along a bit longer...so here's what's going to happen, John," Sebastian said, setting down his gun for a moment as he pulled out a cigarette and lit up, puffing on it. "I'm going to untie you, and we're going to fight hand to hand. If I win, I get to do whatever I want to you.” He winked, then ripped off his t-shirt, revealing his taut muscles and his large biceps. "If you win, well, I guess it's too bad for me." Sebastian knew that there was some risk that John might buy into this all the way and actually try to kill him. He was fairly confident he could take the man, but the risk made it all the more fun. He held up the gun for John to see, put the safety on the gun, and then tossed it out into the hallway, then locked the door. He leaned down and kissed John's temple gently, giving it a small lick. "It seems a shame to let you go...you're so pretty tied up." He released the ties from John's wrists and ankles and pulled off his gag.

            John growled and immediately pushed himself up and off the bed, lunging at Sebastian before the other man had too much of a chance to prepare himself. John hit him low and knocked him backwards onto the floor.

             Sebastian laughed and groaned as his back scraped against his still-healing wound. "Got more fight in you than I thought! The short ones always end up surprising you," he barked a laugh and used a free hand to toss John off of him, rolling up onto his knees as John scrambled to his feet. He bent his knees, waiting for Sebastian to strike. His hands clenched and unclenched into fists—he wasn’t sure if he should go bare knuckle or open palm.

            Sebastian leisurely got to his feet and walked towards John, then grabbed him into a chokehold as John tried to take a swing at him. "I had expected a bit more fight, but beggars can't be choosers..." he said as he wrestled John back toward the bed.

             John lashed a leg backwards to kick Sebastian's groin and let out a choked sound as he tried to struggle away. Sebastian doubled over in pain, letting John go momentarily. “You’ll pay for that,” he growled, then pounced on John, tackling him to the bed.

            John was strong, there was no doubt about it, but Sebastian was far stronger. The kiss had reassured him that this _was_ a game, albeit a slightly terrifying one. Part of John wanted to just let Sebastian win, but at the same time, he didn't want to just give in, and was fairly certain the bigger man would be victorious anyway. He tried struggling away, but Sebastian wrestled John’s arms behind him and lashed them together again. He rolled John onto his back and straddled him.

             "Admit it. You're helpless." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a large Bowie knife, spinning it in his hands.

             John clenched his jaw, breathing heavily through his nose, but didn't say anything as he looked up at Sebastian. He still didn’t trust Sebastian, not at all, but the sight of him shirtless and twirling a knife above him was undeniably hot.

             Sebastian held the knife in his teeth as he untucked John’s shirt, then grabbed the knife and began slicing through the shirt underneath with the knife, letting the cold metal trail along John's skin.

            John’s breath quickened and he sucked in his stomach as the cold metal slid against his skin. Sebastian yanked the ruined shirt apart, running his hands hungrily over John’s bare chest. His finger traced the scar in John’s shoulder, once again fascinated by it, then leaned down to begin kissing and biting at John's throat, breathing heavily, the knife point touching against John's stomach. "Say it. Say you're helpless," he commanded.

             John closed his eyes as Sebastian's lips met his neck and bit back a moan, suddenly back in the mood, and whispered breathily, “I'm helpless...”

             "Damn straight," Sebastian breathed, kissing John hungrily again, clawing his hands down John's chest and grinding his hips against John's. "And because you're so helpless, my little trapped animal, it would be best if you followed orders from here on out. Right?" The last question was steely and menacing.

             John's breathing hitched, catching in his throat but he nodded, trying to keep up with Sebastian's kiss. He arched his back away as the nails left angry red marks down his torso. “Yes—“ Oh God—why was he so turned on by this? John couldn't help thinking that if the man started pulling rank, he'd finish before Sebastian had even properly touched him.

             "Good boy," he growled into John's mouth. "Now I'm going to untie you. Don't make me regret it. If you disobey there's going to be consequences, and you're not going to like them." He raised his hips so John could twist himself around and bare his wrists, which Sebastian unloosed. "Lie still on your back."

             John nodded, his heart pounding, and slipped his arms out from behind him to let them lay loosely at his side as he moved back onto his back, unmoving.

             Sebastian kneeled, straddling John but not touching him, then began unbuckling John's trousers and unzipping them. "Raise your hips and look at me."

            John gasped and his eyes locked with Sebastian’s, watching with heavy breath as Sebastian let his hands trail slowly down John's hips and thighs and pushed off John's trousers, never looking away. "I'm going to fuck you until you can't walk straight. I cannot wait to get in that tight arse of yours."

             “F-fuck...” John gasped. He had no desire to not be able to walk straight, but at the same time—Jesus Christ that was hot. He didn’t think he’d be able to get the words out to protest, anyway.

             Once he'd yanked John's trousers off and cast them on the floor, Sebastian attacked John's hip bone and lower stomach with his lips and teeth, sucking at the skin, licking down to the waistband of John's pants and yanking them down with his teeth, using his hands to help and stroke at John’s hips and arse.

             John squirmed and gasped and moaned. He knew Sebastian had told him to stay still, but he couldn't help but move his hands to curl in Sebastian's hair as his erection sprang out from the confines of his pants. “God!”

            Sebastian sprang up and seized John by the throat, pinning him to the bed as his lips hovered over John's. "You were supposed to lie. Still." He grabbed a handful of John's pubic hair and twisted it painfully. "And when you address me, you’ll call me 'Colonel.' I outrank you, and I think I've earned some respect."

             Oh fuck. John's surprised gasp of pain turned into a choked, aroused, whimper. He tried to take in a raspy breath, his hands going to try and pry the other's man's hand from his throat and choked out, “Yes, Colonel, sir—“

            "That's better, soldier," he smirked, releasing John's throat. "Now undress me, and make it sexy, but don't waste my time!" He rolled onto his back, looking over John's body for the first time. God, he looked good. He was impressed with his own ability to wait this long to get this far. The anticipation was driving him mad. "And get the rest of your shirt off," he tacked on, as it was still hanging around John's arms.

             John quickly scrambled up to his knees, shrugging the shirt off and tossing it to the floor. He swung around so that he was straddling Sebastian and leaned down, pressing his hardened cock against the other man and licked a line up his neck. “Yes, Colonel,” he murmured in the other's ear, making Sebastian grin.

            His shirt was already off, which was a start.  John kissed down his chest. When John's lips reached his navel, he nipped lightly just beneath it, then moved his mouth back up to suck at Sebastian's pulse point while he yanked out the other man's belt.

             Sebastian tipped his head back, groaning. God, _yes_. He gripped John's thighs, his heart pounding. "It may be impressive to ordinary civilians that you're a captain, but in here, I _own_ you. You are mine," he groaned, raising his hips so John could remove his belt.

             John's eyes fluttered at his words and he moved his mouth to deeply kiss Sebastian, draping the belt around his own neck. He undid the button and zip on his trousers, before slipping a hand in to grasp firmly at his cock before he moved backwards to tug his trousers and pants off in one go.

             Sebastian groaned at John's touch, then kicked off his clothes the rest of the way, yanking on the belt around John's neck to pull him in for another kiss, exploring John's mouth. He ran a hand down John's bare back, feeling light traces of scars, though not nearly so many as his own. Sebastian’s hand traveled down to his arse, grabbing it and pulling John's hips to his, panting as their groins rubbed against each other.

             “Nnngh!” John moaned as he rutted against the other man, slipping his tongue desperately into Sebastian's mouth. He wanted so badly to hate the man. That would make everything so much easier. He wanted to be able to just shoot him here and now in cold blood, but there was no way he would be able to do that. At Sebastian's touch, he practically melted into a desperate, obedient, puddle of shame and longing. If he wasn't so completely drunken on lust, he'd be horrified.

             The sounds John was making were intoxicating. Sebastian grabbed his shoulders and rolled him over until he was on his back, move to straddle him again. His dog tags dangled over John chest as he leaned down and kissed him again, then sucked down John's torso to his cock, licking up it while locking eyes with John, then taking him in his mouth, locking his lips tightly around him.

             John shuddered and gasped, involuntarily bucking his hips up. “Uhh—fffuuuhh—Colonel—“ John choked out as his fingers went back to Sebastian's hair, his eyes locking with the other man's.

             He pulled John's cock in until his nose was buried in John’s pubic hair. He gave it a long suck before slowly pulling out with a wet pop. "Wouldn't want you coming too soon...we both know how worked up captains can get around their superiors." He licked off some precome and reached over to grab some things—a condom, lube, and a cock ring, then tossed the condom to John. "Put this on me." He slipped the cock ring around John's cock, giving his balls a massaging squeeze.

             John winced and pushed his hips up to grind against Sebastian again before he grabbed the condom, opening it with his teeth and then rolled it on to the other man's length, his fingers teasing and brushing against him an unnecessary amount.

             Sebastian's breath was shallow as John touched him. Once he was finished, he growled animalistically and seized John's legs, forcing them up, then slicked his hand with lube and began massaging at John's hole, sliding one finger in, then two, scissoring the space. "You're so tight, John—" he breathed. "Never had a colonel's cock in there before, have you?" He added three fingers, twisting them in and brushing against John's prostate.

             John didn't admit that yes, he in fact had; it had been a one night thing back in Afghanistan. Instead he groaned out, “No, Colonel…” Fireworks exploded behind John's eyes as he pushed against his prostate, and John bucked back against him as best he could, wanting and needing more.

             Sebastian curled his fingertips, adding more pressure to the prostate, then pulled them out a bit and drove them in again, watching John's face hungrily. "Who do you belong to, Captain Watson?" He pulled out his fingers and pushed his cock in, gasping as John's warm tightness encircled him. "Who do you belong to?"

            “You!” he cried out, his mouth opening wide, his eyes squeezing shut as Sebastian thrust in. It had been about two years since he'd been with a man and it hurt. Sebastian had prepped him a bit, but his prick was quite a bit bigger than a few fingers. He winced and grit his teeth as his muscles clenched around the other man, getting stretched and used to the feeling.

            Sebastian waited inside John as the spasms past. He should've worn a cock ring himself—he'd have to focus to keep from coming too soon. Oh God, it felt _so_ good to be inside John. He was becoming undone himself. Everything about John had him infatuated. He gripped John's knees as he pulled partially out and thrust in again, starting slowly, moaning. "That's right, John—you're mine. I don't care who you work for, I don't care what side you're on, right now, you're _all mine._ And you like it, don't you? You love it that I'm ruling you—" he thrust in a bit faster now, the intense pleasure escalating. He hit against John's prostate which each thrust.

             John couldn't even form a coherent sentence, every time he opened his mouth it turned to a loud, low moan or a pleasured, gasping groan. He spread his legs wider and hooked a finger in Sebastian’s dog tags, pulling him close for a bruising kiss. “Yesss...” he murmured into his mouth, because God, he did.

             Sebastian met John's lips eagerly, running his hands all over John's skin, wanting to touch him everywhere at once. He'd never felt like this during sex. It had always been about satisfying his cock and being done with it. This was—his whole body needed John's whole body. He pulled out nearly all the way and began driving into John with long, deep thrusts. "If you want to come—" he said raggedly, "You'll have to beg me for it. I won't take the ring off until you beg."

             John groaned and dug his nails into Sebastian's back, clawing across them, “You're a—a fucking cheeky bastard,” he panted in between gasps. He arched his back up, his knees tucked near his shoulders and bit hard on Sebastian's lower lip, slowly dragging it out.

             He moaned as John's teeth sunk in, then dug his nail into John's scar. "I didn't hear a 'Colonel' in that sentence," he sang.

             John winced and tried jerking his shoulder away from the nail digging into the tender flesh, 'You're a fucking cheeky bastard, _Colonel_ \--' he growled, which turned into a moan.

             "Better," Sebastian gasped, then gripped John's knees as he thrust as quickly as he could, plowing into John, moaning out loudly. "God—John!"

             “ _Harder_!” John cried out, the pleasure inside him building into what was going to be his most intense orgasm of recent memory, but the cock ring was denying him.

             Sebastian thrust as hard as he could, impaling John, grabbing his hips and shoving them up to meet him. He swiveled his hips so he hit John at a new angle each time, sending shivers down his own spine. He wasn't going to be able to hold on much longer. He held the base of his cock for a few moments, then began thrusting in again, sending the bed violently knocking against the well. "Beg for it!"

             John couldn't stand it anymore. “Please! Fuck— _please_ , Colonel, let me come! _Please_! I need it!”

            Sebastian pulled off the cock ring, thrusting in as fast as he could once more, sweat tricking down his forehead. He finally thrust in one final time, coming hard and yelling.

             John came soon after, come shooting over his stomach, his every nerve exploding with sensation. “Sebastian!” he yelled out, then fell back onto the bed, exhausted and gasping for air.

             "John—" Sebastian breathed, holding the condom carefully as he pulled out, then discarded it and fell on the bed next to him. "God..." He breathed, catching his breath.

            Sebastian grabbed John's jaw and pulled him close to kiss him. "Mmmmm....you are delicious, Captain.”

            John weakly kissed back, one hand moving to cup his face before his fell back onto the bed, eyes closing. “And you're still a bastard.” His heavy breathing turned into a chuckle as one hand went to rest on his chest.

             "I did what I promised...I’d call that being a man of his word.” He grinned, then rolled off the bed to grab a pack of cigarettes and lighter before climbing back in beside John, pulling him so he was resting on his chest, then lit up and exhaled a plume of smoke.

             John grinned and curled against him. His eyes closed and his grin faded. He was content, there was no doubt about it, but it was so wrong...he didn't know how they would be able to keep doing this...but he didn't know that he could stop, either. “What're we doing...?” he asked, the question directed at both of them.

             Sebastian took a long drag of his cigarette and looked down at John. He'd put off the thought purposefully for several days. It had been easy to forget tonight, in the heat of the moment. John was just _John._ Now, though, he had to come to terms with the fact that John was still the enemy. He could be ordered to kill him, or his best friend, and what would happen if he refused? "I don't know," he admitted. He ran a hand through John's hair, soothingly. He'd never felt this way about anyone before. There was no easy solution to this mess they’d made. He closed his eyes. He refused to worry about it right now. 


	6. Boyfriend

 John sighed as Sebastian's fingers slid through his hair. The more he thought about it, there was really only one thing standing in their way of being able to keep doing this without all this conflict and secrecy. He bit his lip for a moment. “Can't you kill him?”

             "Who? _Moriarty?"_ Sebastian tensed and stopped his fingers. "Are you fucking _kidding_ me, John? You can't _kill_ Moriarty. If you have the tiniest idea of what he’s like, you know what an impossible question that is. He's set up a web of protection around himself, a bunch of men loyal to him, because one of us does something disloyal, he has someone else appointed to kill them, and so on and so on..." It was a complex web, one that not even Sebastian understood. Even if he _did,_ would he be able to kill Moriarty? Jim Moriarty had swooped in and salvaged Sebastian when he’d been wild and reckless and an utter mess. He’d broken Sebastian down, owned him, and made Sebastian need him. Sebastia was loyal through and through because Moriarty had ensured it. He couldn’t kill Jim. "I can't do it. I need him," he said reluctantly.

             John frowned and sat up. “You need him? You NEED him?? What the hell does that even mean?” he asked, looking down at him with repulsion.

             "None of your fucking business," Sebastian said, irritably flicking his ash on the floor. He wasn't about to lie here and pour out his entire history with Moriarty, how fucking complicated it all was. He hadn't had a pleasant life, and under Jim's cruel hands, he hadn't stood a chance. He hated him, but he couldn't imagine life without him. "Anyway, what if I asked you to kill _Sherlock_? Would you do it? Of course fucking not!"

             “You're damn _right_ of course fucking not! Sherlock is a good man! Sherlock doesn't kill people for fun! Or strap bombs to people's chests!” John huffed, shocked that Sebastian would even hint at such a thing. John grit his teeth and climbed out of the bed and started pulling on what clothes hadn't been destroyed, intent on leaving.

             "And you think _I'm_ a good man??" Sebastian demanded, furious.

             John grit his teeth and whirled back to yell at him, but Sebastian barreled on, cutting him off.

            "I don't know who you were kidding, John, but wake the fuck up! I kill people for my job! I don't ask whether they deserved it or whether they have families or whether they are good or bad. I kill them, I get paid, and I like it. If you were expecting some kind of fucking 'redeem the baddie by winning his heart' thing to play out, go the fuck back to Disneyland!"

            John's shoulders slumped and he swallowed hard. When Sebastian finished his rant, John looked at him for a long, quiet moment before he said softly, “...you didn't kill _me_.”

             Sebastian clenched his jaws. "No, I didn't," he said, a bit quieter. "I didn't, and I don't even fucking know why!" He got up irritably.

             John felt a pang of hurt at that. Yes, he was angry at Sebastian, but he really couldn't say he had regretted anything they'd done. Clearly the feeling wasn't mutual. John swallowed thickly around the lump in his throat and set his jaw. “Right. Well, I guess that makes all of this a lot easier, then.” He grabbed his coat from the floor, zipped it up all the way and headed out the door.

             "What are you talking about, easier? Nothing about this is easy! I’m _fucked_." He'd hoped that after fucking John he'd be able to drop him and move on like he did with everyone else. But that wasn't happening. He wanted John to stay in the dingy little room with him. He yanked on his trousers and belt, stepping over to John. "This isn't easy at all," he murmured, grabbing John's face in his hands, then kissed him.

             John growled and tried pushing him away, but Sebastian’s hands on his skin and his hot lips sliding against John made his heart speed up, and before long he was kissing him back. After a minute, he pulled back and rested his forehead against Sebastian's shoulder. “What do we do?” he asked hopelessly. If Sherlock found out, he would be furious and betrayed, and John wouldn't blame him. If Jim found out, both Sherlock and John would probably die. Either option meant he would lose Sherlock, and he couldn't do that. If this were to continue, they would have to be extremely careful.

            “We'll keep it a secret. We'll meet at places like this, and we'll cover our tracks. They'll never know..."

             “How? Sherlock will be suspicious if I never bring you home. He'll follow me. And won’t Moriarty wonder where you keep disappearing off to?”

             Sebastian fell silent. "Well, I can't deal with not seeing you again, so you come up with something," he growled.

             John sighed and pulled back, pressing his palms to his eyes. He wished he was Sherlock. Sherlock would have a plan for this sort of thing. There was probably some sort of glaring, obvious answer that he was missing. Some simple piece to the puzzle.  He bit his bottom lip and looked up. “What if I _did_ take you home? You could...disguise yourself sort of—not necessarily your appearance, but what you wear, clean up...Sherlock—I don't know how the _hell_ he does it, but somehow he would be able to figure out who you were in a flash. What if you, I don't know, plant false evidence about who you are? Disguise who you are? He's never seen you before, so he wouldn't recognize your face, and that would at least make him less...I dunno...snoopy and curious about who you are. We could make you a false identity...?” John looked up at him grimacing a bit, unsure if the idea was as crap as it sounded.

             Sebastian looked at him doubtfully for a moment. “You’d bring me home as what? Your _boyfriend_?”

            “Well…yeah. That would be the most plausible,” John said nervously.

            Sebastian slowly nodded, a trace of smile appearing on his lips. "That could work." He didn't like the prospect of coming face to face with his enemy, having those cold gray eyes scrutinizing him, but John was right—if Sherlock was anything like Moriarty, he'd see right through it if John kept coming home and lying. "Okay. I guess I should be something I know about—what about a gun maker? Or a shooting range manager? Someone who works with guns...but more respectable. More law-abiding." He smiled down at John. "Far more dull..."

             John gave a little laugh. “Yeah, all right. Boring shooting range manager...” he leaned up to give him a small kiss. “So...so what about Jim and me? I mean...do you ever bring people home? Or...or would that be weird?”

             "Jim knows who you are. If you came home, he'd either kill you on the spot or keep you and torture you whenever he got bored, or use you as bait for Sherlock yet again.”

             “But…pretend it's not me—do you ever bring people home? Would it be weird if you said you were seeing someone but then didn't take them home every once in a while?'

             "I never bring people home," Sebastian said. "And I don't date. I go out, and I fuck people, but never twice.” He realized that wasn’t true anymore.  “Until recently,” he muttered.

             John pursed his lips and cleared his throat. “Right. So it won’t really be all that suspicious if you're out some nights with me. Jim will just assume it's someone else every time...right?”

             "Yeah, probably," Sebastian said. "You might have to switch up your deodorant from time to time, so that I don't smell like the same person every night. He notices little things like that."

            “Um okay. Right, I can do that.  Switch up my deodorant. Anything else?” he asked.

             "I'm going to change your name in my phone to 'Harry Waits.' And when you text me, make sure you sound more...scuzzy and less like a good doctor. If that makes sense."

            John chuckled a bit and nodded. “Chaz McDonald?”

            “Ooh, awful. perfect.”

            John grinned. “Can you come by tomorrow?”                         

            Sebastian agreed, and the next afternoon he cleaned himself up, donned some slacks and a long-sleeved button-down shirt to hide what scars he could, then came to meet John at Baker Street.

             John was nervous as he sat in the living room of 221B. His fingers tapped constantly at the armrest of his chair. Sherlock, luckily, was too distracted at his microscope to notice. When the buzzer sounded, John practically jumped out of his chair and took the stairs down two at a time to answer it.

            He opened the door and looked Sebastian over, pulling him inside to kiss him. “You look nice.... _different_ , but nice.”

            "Cheers," Sebastian said, biting John's ear playfully. "Let's get this over with." He wasn't looking forward to meeting Sherlock Holmes in person at all, but he followed John upstairs and into the flat. The place was untidy and chaotic. There were bullet holes in the wall, a knife holding a stack of correspondences on the mantel, headphones on a cow skull—and there was the detective himself, absorbed in his microscope. He was pale like Jim but the physical similarities there ended. Where Jim's power lay in his unassuming face, Sherlock's face was striking to the point of being intimidating, as was his tall, lanky physique. He waited nervously for John to introduce him.

             “Sherlock?” he asked, to get the man's attention. “This is Sebastian...my boyfriend...” John hadn't had any boyfriends before and he idly wondered if Sherlock would remark on it, or even notice he was talking for that matter.

             "Hmm?" Sherlock looked up from the microscope and gave Sebastian a cursory glance. "A military man—sensible choice. I didn't think you would date a smoker, John." He turned his attention back to the microscope.

            Sebastian was relieved, but puzzled by Sherlock had known all that. "How'd he know that stuff?" he muttered to John.

            Sherlock smiled to himself at the comment and stood up, circling him and staring down at him with calculating eyes.

            “Sherlock, can we not?” John muttered, annoyed. Ever the show-off.

            Sherlock didn’t waver from his circling and rattled off in a monotone voice, "It's evident that you're a military man, or _were_ , by your stance and the state of your shoes. Your yellow nail beds are dead giveaways that you smoke, as is the aroma of tobacco you brought into the flat." Sebastian stood stiffly, staring straight ahead. He was disliking Sherlock Holmes more and more. Sherlock paused to breathe in heavily, then continued, crossing behind him. "And you still work with guns on a daily basis, going by your thumbs and the mark near your eye suggests you regularly use sniper rifles with a telescope attachment." He frowned, stopping in front of him.

            Now the man was staring directly at Sebastian with those strange, catlike eyes of his. He thought he was going to say more, but he merely flicked his eyes to John and returned to his microscope. "I hope this means you won't be masturbating so often anymore, John," he said mildly.

             John's face flushed bright red as Sebastian smirked. “Um...right. Heh...he didn't mean that,” John muttered, “We'll be upstairs.” He grabbed Sebastian before Sherlock could say anything else and towed the man upstairs to his room, where he sunk down onto the bed in relief. “God, that was nerve wrecking.”

            “Well, he bought it," Sebastian sighed. "He's uh....don't be offended when I say I can see why not everyone likes him. He's a bit..." He didn't want to call Sherlock an asshole, but that name and lots of other colorful ones were dancing through his head.

            “He can be a right asshole,” John said baldly. “But he’s the best friend I’ve ever known, and one of the best men in general. He’s just not the most…socially adept.”

            "You called me your boyfriend back there," Sebastian noted as he held John's hips.

             “I did.” John smiled to himself, then frowned up at Sebastian. “That’s okay, right? I just assumed it would be better...for...you know...”

            "Yeah, it's fine, it's just...not a title that's usually attached to me. 'Boyfriend'....sounds so...cutesy." Sebastian grimaced, then leaned down and kissed John. "I'm not going to bother with hearts and roses, John, so if that's what you're looking for, better get off. But I like you."

            “I was never a big fan of roses,” John murmured as he leaned up to the kiss. His hands slid up to Sebastian’s shoulders, and he began to slowly pull him backwards to the bed. “Mm….how's the gun range managing business, honey?” he asked, nipping at his jaw.

             "Work's murder, darling," Sebastian murmured, tilting his head back and running his hands down John's arms as the back of John's legs hit the edge of the bed.

             “I wish there was some way you could relax...relieve a bit of stress,” he breathed, moving his head to the other side of Sebastian's jaw, peppering light kisses along it.

             "You think that's a good idea while your friend is downstairs? He'll hear us," Sebastian murmured, beginning to bite up the side of John's ear, splaying a hand over the small of John's back and pulling him close.

             “I don't think he'll notice...I've been talking to him all afternoon and he hasn't even looked up except for when you came in. I've no doubt he's back, caught up in his work,” John said, moving his lips back to Sebastian's.

             "In that case _, honey..."_ Sebastian shoved him backwards onto the bed, then kicked off his shoes. "What did you have in mind that would relieve this stress of mine?"


	7. Jumper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens.

            John leaned up to kiss him, hands sliding down towards Sebastian's groin, lightly grabbing him through his trousers.

             "Mmm, fine start, pet," Sebastian murmured as he kissed tenderly along John's forehead and temple. He had never much seen the point of being tender—it always seemed so dull—but at this moment, he had the strange desire to be gentle with John.

             John closed his eyes as Sebastian's lips brushed over his brow. His hands began slowly unbuttoning Sebastian's shirt, pushing it off over his shoulders to expose his bare skin underneath. His hands slide across his muscled torso, his cheek resting against Sebastian’s, who hummed into John's hair.

             He loved the feeling of John's hands on his skin.  He languorously began pulling up John's shirt and jumper, grasping at the skin underneath. John sighed out, his lips parting, eyes closing as Sebastian's warm, rough hands moved over stomach and chest.

             Sebastian began unbuckling his own trousers. "I want to try something...but let's get our clothes off first," he smiled, then moved his mouth down to kiss sloppily up John's chest, pulling his clothes up over his head as he did.

             John gave a little chuckle. “Sounds like a good starting point.” He undid his belt and trousers, kicking them and his pants to the floor and stretched out on the bed as Sebastian yanked off his own pants, already hard. He peeled off his shirt the rest of the way, then sat cross-legged on the bed, pulling John up to kiss him directly. His hand moved along John’s cock, pumping it and coaxing it to full hardness. When John’s breath quickened, he said, "Get on my lap. Facing or away, whichever is easiest." He reached over and grabbed lube and a condom from his trouser pocket. Always be prepared.

             John raised an eyebrow, but nodded, intrigued. He moved to kneel and straddle Sebastian, facing away from him, figuring that would be easiest of the both of them. He also thought it would allow him to push back against Sebastian better, a thought that he rather liked.

             Sebastian prepped himself and John, then eased a couple fingers in, then three and finally ventured for a fourth, plumbing John's depths, brushing fingers against his prostate.

             John leaned forward, bracing himself on the bed, his hands curled into fists. He moaned, his back arching as Sebastian's fingers moved inside of him. He realized what a strange sensation it really was, and pushed back down on them, fucking himself on the other man's digits.

             Sebastian's cock throbbed, and he pulled his fingers out, kissing John's shoulder, then grabbed his hips and steered John onto him, thrusting up a bit, hovering outside of him for one breathless moment before pushing in, easing John back onto him. "Okay?" he panted into John's back.

             John closed his eyes and let out a long moan as Sebastian pushed into him, stretching him out. Again, his muscles spasmed around the other man's length, but it didn't hurt quite as bad as the previous day. “Y-yeah,” he breathed, wincing a bit.

             Sebastian began moving his hips, guiding John's hips up and down, then let his hands travel up around John's chest to touch his pecs, his nipples, his stomach, holding him close against him as they found their rhythm.

             John gripped Sebastian's thighs just above the knees to steady himself as he began to buck backwards, riding him. He let out short gasps as Sebastian's hands moved over his chest, and started moving faster.

             Sebastian let out a moan, clawing his hands down John's chest, then grabbing ahold of John's cock, beginning to stroke him off. "Johhnn..." he groaned quietly.

            John pushed back against Sebastian's cock and then forward into his hand. The stimulation was overwhelming and delicious. He let out another moan and ground against Sebastian's prick.

             It was unbelievably hot to have John riding him like this. He panted hard into John's shoulder, biting into it, hand increasing its speed on John's cock, the other hand wrapped possessively around John's chest. "God—John—"

             “Unnnngh!” John moved even faster, slamming against him and angling his hips so that Sebastian's dick hit his prostate with every thrust. It wasn't long before John whispered, “I'm close—!”

             "So'm I," Sebastian grunted, thrusting his hips up as best as he could, hand tightening on John's cock, twisting as he slid it up and down.

             “G- _Fuck_!” John choked out. His body tensed up, his muscles clenching around Sebastian and he came hard onto his bed sheets. Sebastian pushed in a couple more times, pulling out as he came, releasing a long, satisfied groan. "God—you're fantastic," he grunted, flinging off the condom.

             John gasped for air and fell back against Sebastian's chest, resting his cheek on his shoulder. “Mm...you're not so bad yourself, Colonel...”

             "Don't lie, dear. I'm fucking amazing," Sebastian grinned, wrapping an arm around John and pulling him close.

             John rolled his eyes and ground his hips against Sebastian's cock. “Someone needs to knock you down a couple of pegs, sir,” he murmured, closing his eyes, relaxing into his warmth.

             "Oooh, and I imagine you think you're up for the job?" Sebastian chuckled. "I'd love to see you try, Johnny." He rested his chin above John's head, then leaned down and playfully bit John's ear. "This tiger can't be tamed."

             'I'll remind this ‘tiger’ that he was rather disappointed when a certain ‘Johnny’ didn't sleep with him on the first date. Don't tell me that didn't knock you back a bit,” he grinned to himself as Sebastian nipped at his ear.

             "Oh, so that's what you'd do? Withhold sex from me? I'd like to see you try." Sebastian nuzzled into John's hair. "You were so adorable on that first date. Still adorable, granted, but...damn."

             John frowned a bit, “I was _not_! How was I ‘adorable’?!”

             "Ah, the little sex kitten doesn't like being called 'adorable?' That makes it even cuter," Sebastian laughed, holding John closer. "You were adorable because you were so very flustered and nervous the whole time. It made me want to fuck your brains out and hear what kinds of noises you'd make. And it was _so_ worth the wait." He leaned down and kissed and bit at the back of John's neck.

             John blushed and turned around to straddle him, then grabbed the covers, pulling them up over his shoulders. “Well, I aim to please, although I would hardly consider myself a ‘sex kitten.’”

            "What do you consider yourself, then?" Sebastian asked, barely suppressing a smile.

            “I'm a strapping, intelligent, run of the mill army doctor, of course,” John said, raising his eyebrows, ignoring Sebastian's feeble attempt to repress a smile.

             "Strapping and intelligent, yes, definitely. Army doctor, hardly to be denied. Run of the mill?" Sebastian pulled John in for a long, lingering kiss. "Not a chance."

             John smiled into the kiss, “It’s not _shameful_ being ordinary. There’s not anything particularly special about me,” he said, brushing a hand through the sniper's hair.

             "Well, you caught _my_ attention, which is exceptional.” He kissed John again, letting a hand brush down John's back to his bum. "But you could never take me. You're a sex kitten, admit it."

             John pouted a bit. “And what? You're a sex _tiger,_ then, are you?”

             "Can you deny it?" Sebastian raised an eyebrow, then playfully bit John's shoulder.

             John rolled his eyes. “Just because you've got a tattoo, doesn't make you a tiger, Sebby.” He grinned and nudged his head under Sebastian's chin to kiss and suck at his neck.

             Sebastian tensed at the nickname. That was what Jim called him. His "pet name" for his favorite sniper. The pet name he used even when he was punishing Sebastian for a poorly done job, digging knives into his flesh or burning his skin with his own cigarettes or fucking him senselessly like a dog. Once again guilt washed over him as he thought of how he was betraying his boss, the only other person that cared about him. "Don't call me that," he said quietly.

             John blinked in surprise, not understanding why. “Oh...okay. Fine.” He sat up a bit to look down at him, blanket still over his shoulders, unsure of what to say or do now, wondering if he'd just somehow ruined the whole cuddling mood.

             Sebastian wordlessly pulled on the edges of the blanket to bring John back against him, holding him and running a hand through his hair. "Thanks," he murmured, his eyes drifting shut. "Sebastian will do nicely. Or Colonel. Or Tiger..." he laughed sleepily.

             “Okay...” John murmured, closing his eyes against the other man's shoulder. Then it dawned on him that that was probably what Moriarty called him. John's skin crawled as he was reminded of the precarious situation he had gotten himself in to. He flexed his jaw, pushing it from his mind. “...Tiger.”

            Sebastian rumbled happily and combed his fingers through John's hair, massaging his scalp, his other hand rubbing softly against John's chest and stomach.

             John hummed at the touched, nuzzling against him. “Mmm...that feels good,” he murmured, pressing his lips to Sebastian's shoulder. It seemed strange to him that this could be. How, of all people had they found each other and then _liked_ each other? This whole thing was a nightmare wrapped up in a dream. John felt like no matter what he did someone would eventually get hurt, and he hated having to choose between Sherlock and Sebastian.

             "Good. Because I'm not going to stop touching you any time soon. So deal with it," Sebastian mumbled, loving the feeling of naked John wrapped against him. He couldn't remember ever cuddling with anyone before, but this felt so natural and easy. Why did it have to be _John_? Why couldn't John be someone else? Why did he have to meet Sherlock? Why had Sebastian met Jim? It was stupid, he decided. Stupid. He wouldn't worry about it right now. He refused to let his current happiness be clouded by any more idiotic worries about the future. For now, John was here, and that was what mattered.

              John let out a soft chuckle. “Fine, by me, Tiger,” he murmured, pressing a few more kisses on the other man's chest. All hell would break loose if Sherlock or Jim ever found out about the other, and he simply didn't want to deal with that. He let his hands slide gently over the other’s shoulders and down his thick, toned biceps. He didn't ever want to get out of this bed.

            Sebastian continued to caress John until he fell asleep. He hadn't been intending to; he didn't exactly feel at ease in his enemy's flat, but he felt so safe with John that he drifted off anyway.

             John smiled softly against his skin and pulled away to press a soft kiss to Sebastian's lips even though the other was asleep. He gently let his hand slide down the side of his face before he moved to the side, to curl up next to him and went to sleep, an arm wrapped possessively around the other.

             Sebastian was awoken during the wee hours of the morning by his phone. He groaned and shifted off John, trying not to wake him, but, like him, John was a light sleeper and woke up groggily as Sebastian answered it.

            "Where the fuck are you? Get back here. I need you," Jim barked at him.             Sebastian blinked and rubbed his eyes. "Now?" "Five minutes ago. MOVE!"

            He switched off his phone and hung his head. “Shit.” He sighed and leaned over tiredly to kiss John's shoulder, resting his head there for a moment. "Duty calls. Sorry."

             John groaned and tried not to think about the fact that "duty" was Jim Moriarty. “Okay...call me tomorrow?” he asked, blearily propping himself up as Sebastian quickly dressed.

             "Natch, babe." He said, yanking on his shoes. "Christ, it's a good thing I make the big bucks. I need a fucking cigarette." He leaned down and kissed John, then left.             What the hell did Jim want at this time of night? Sebastian stewed over it the whole way back. When he got back to the townhouse, he stepped inside and called for Jim. "You know, if you had a job, some previous planning would be nice! Isn't that what you do? Plan things?" He couldn't keep the irritated edge out of his voice.

             Jim stormed down the stairs and into the entryway, holding up the jumper John had been wearing the night he had come over. “What the fuck is _this_?”


	8. Text

 Sebastian's heart hammered. Fuck. _Fuck_. He grabbed John’s jumper from Jim and frowned at it. "Hell if I know. You sure it wasn't from one of your other guys, Jim?"

             Jim rolled his eyes and gave a menacing, mirthless laugh. “Oh, Sebastian, you're so adorable when you try and play dumb. Do you really think I bring my conquests into your ‘man cave’ for a quick shag on your fucking tiger pelt? _WHO DOES THIS BELONG TO_? Did you _really_ think you could hide a _relationship_ from me?!”

             Sebastian's insides felt like ice. Mercifully, at least, Jim didn't know whose jumper it was. Still, he was going to get punished for this, he knew it. Jim had never seemed to mind that Sebastian went out for one night stands, but he rarely if ever brought men home to get laid.

            "I...I have a boyfriend, all right?" he said, putting an embarrassed tone in his voice. It wasn't hard. "I didn't want to tell you because you'd mock me for all time and I just didn't...I didn't think you'd care," he finished lamely.

             Jim's eyes widened. “A boyfriend? A _boyfriend_?!” He stared at him in shock for a moment before he burst into laughter. “Is this a joke? Are you kidding me? Oooh, this is too much. Sebastian Moran, sexual deviant, king of one night stands has a _boyfriend_?!” Tears started pouring out of Jim's eyes as he laughed, hysterical. “Who?? Who is it?” he asked between peals of laughter.

             "As if you'd know him," Sebastian muttered. "And just because _you_ make me do deviant things in the bedroom doesn’t mean I’m a sexual deviant,” he growled.

            Jim's laughter died down to a chuckle and he sighed, a small grin still on his face. Suddenly, his eyes were dark and he grabbed Sebastian tightly by the throat and slammed the larger man against the wall. He leaned up to snarl into his face. “If this man interferes in your work in _ANY_ way...I will find out who he is, hunt him down, peel off his skin, and shove it down your throat.” He lingered, teeth clenched for a moment, before he stepped back, the small smile returning to his face, his hands going to sink into his pockets. “Clear, Sebby?” he asked cheerfully.

             Sebastian let out a pained, gasping breath as Jim released his throat. The small man's strength was surprising, every damn time. He swallowed back a tremor and said coolly, "You know work will always be my #1 priority, Jim. You come first, always. Obviously." He rubbed his bruised throat.

             Jim hummed, looking up at him, “Good to hear, Sebby. I'd hate to have to spend time trying to sniff out one of your fuck toys. I've much more important things to be doing with my time, so for both of your safety, see that it stays that way.” With that, Jim turned and headed back down the hall, humming happily to himself.

             Sebastian stiffened at hearing John described as a "fuck toy," realizing with some astonishment how much it bothered him to hear John called something so base. God, he did feel for him. Later that night, while on assignment, he texted John.

_Jim found your jumper, but he doesn't know it was yours. Does Sherlock suspect anything? –SM_

_Jesus...what did he say? Does he suspect anything? And I don't think so. He hasn't said anything to me all evening--still preoccupied with his experiment. –JW_

 

_Jim just thinks it’s hilarious that I have a boyfriend. But we'll have to be extra careful. When can I see you again? -SM_

_What are you up to tonight? -JW_

_We could grab a pint? -JW_

_After I "dispose" of this guy, I'm free. Are you opposed to going as far as Greenwich? –SM_

 

            John flexed his jaw. He'd rather not think about Sebastian killing people if he could avoid it.

_Sure. Where do you want to go? I'll have to figure out which tube stop is nearest. -JW_

_The Greenwich Union. Be there at half past nine. I'll be waiting with two scotches and a sexy expression. ;-) -SM_

_You really are too much. I'll be sure to bring along a piece of humble pie. Till later. xx JW_

 

_What are you wearing? -SM_

_Right /now/? -JW_

_Yeah. -SM_

_Are you serious?? -JW_

_Come on, 9:30 is a long time away. I'm bored and I miss you. Be a good kitten and tell me. -SM_

_You're like a seventeen-year-old boy. An off-white button-up, a navy button-up jumper, and a pair of jeans. Sorry it's not more interesting. -JW_

_That's okay, I know what you look like underneath. Now I can imagine undressing you until i see you for real...yum. -SM_

 

            John blushed brightly, his cheeks burning furiously and couldn't keep a ridiculous, goofy grin from his face. Sherlock happened a look over just then and one of his eyebrows rose. “John, if you're going to sexy text, could you please do it in your room, your accelerated breathing is distracting.”

            He opened his mouth to protest, but there really wasn’t any point. He just cleared his throat and nodded before headed up to his room. Once he got up to his room, he flopped onto his bed that Sebastian had occupied earlier. He slid a hand over to where the other had laid, and then texted back, the goofy grin returning.

_Keep it in your pants, tiger. –JW_

_Natch, pet. I'm on the job. I'm not about to have a wank /now/. Doesn't mean I can't have a bit of fun, though. I'm so excited. I want to eat you up, honey--it's been too long. -SM_

 

            John felt giddy and excited as he read the text, rolling over onto his stomach,  pushing the pillow under his chest, and propping himself up on the pillow.

 

_It hasn't even been 24 hours. -JW_

_Feels like longer. I cannot wait to take off that jumper of yours. Then I'll rip off that button-up shirt so fast you won't be able to button it up ever again. After that, I intend to taste every inch of you. –SM_

 

             John blushed furiously again felt himself starting to get hard.

 

_Stop it or you're going to completely unravel me. –JW_

_That's the intention, honey. I just hope you behave tonight, or I might have to pull rank. -SM_

 

            Oooh God. And now he had a full on erection. He couldn't help but press his hips down into the bed a bit before he rolled over onto his back. One hand slid down and started to undo his trousers. This was like being back in school.

_Is that so? And if pulling rank doesn't work,_ _/then/ what will you do? –JW_

_Then you'll be punished, obviously. I'd hate to smack you around, Captain Watson, but if a spanking was called for, I'd be sure to deliver. And I'd make sure to make it humiliating. Put you in your place before I give you a sound fucking. –SM_

_Who knows, I might even still have my old colonel’s hat in my room. Maybe I'll bring it along. -SM_

 

            John let his eyes slip shut as he reached his hand into his trousers and started to slowly stroke himself, imagining Sebastian. 

 

_That's not very nice of you, Colonel. -jw_

 

_"Nice" doesn't get you to the upper ranks of the army, as you well know. And in my experience, fucking should be anything /but/ nice. I'm going to make it hurt so good. And if you thrash around too much, maybe I'll just tie you up and have my way with you as I see fit. –SM_

            That was hot. John's hand started moving faster, his breath quickening.

 

_I suppose that's true...you /do/ outrank me after all. I'd imagine you know better. -JW_

_Ah. Compliance. Now tell me you're not whipped, kitten. –SM_

 

            John groaned as he felt his orgasm nearing.

 

_Captain John Watson is /never/ "whipped". -JW_

_Two fucks and a blowjob tell me differently. And the fact that you are absolutely wanking off to this right now. Am I wrong? –SM_

 

             “Jesus!” John choked out. Sebastian knew. He didn't know if he should be embarrassed or more turned on by the thought, end ended up being a little of both.

 

_Piss off--it's your fault if I /am/. -JW_

_Well, whatever you're doing to yourself right now, it's not going to be nearly as good as tonight. That's a promise, honey. Think about /that/ as you come. –SM_

             Sebastian laughed to himself, hardening as he pictured John masturbating to images of him. Perfect.

 

            John's back arched and he stifled a loud moan by biting down on his fist and came into his hand and onto his jumper before dropping back onto the bed. Fuck.

 

_I hope you don't mind, but now I've got to change clothes. -JW_

 

He hesitated a moment before sending another.

 

_Any wardrobe requests? -JW_

 

_Something red. You would look good in red, Johnny. -SM_

_I'll see what I can do. xxJW_


	9. Colonel

            Sebastian worked himself out of his erection as he refocused on his job, counting down the time before he could go to Greenwich and see John. When he arrived, he found an empty corner table and ordered two top shelf scotches as promised, then settled in to wait for John, wishing he could smoke a cigarette. Stupid anti-smoking laws.

            John showed up a few minutes later. All he had changed was his jumper. On the outside at least. He was now wearing a pair of bright red, white-trimmed pants--but he assumed Sebastian would discover _that_ later. His jumper was a wooly pull-over as he pulled off his coat as he made his way back to Sebastian, a small, embarrassed smile on his face as he thought back to earlier. “Evening, Sebastian.”

             Sebastian cast him a smoldering glance and shoved the chair opposite from him out with his foot so John could sit in it. "Hi, babe. You're looking fit. Did you have a good wank?" he asked conversationally, winking, then slid a scotch to him.

            John's cheeks reddened a bit as he dropped into the seat, grabbing the scotch. He glanced around to make sure no one had heard him before he said a bit quieter, an embarrassed, but smug grin on his face, “As a matter of fact, I _did_.”

             "Well, if you were thinking about me, I suppose it would be," Sebastian said. He chuckled into his glass, smitten. "You're so cute when you blush."

             John grumbled unintelligibly into his glass as he took a sip. “Mmm,” he hummed as the alcohol warmed him. “This is delicious.” He looked around the small pub. “I can’t believe I left my jumper at yours.”

            “I can’t believe I forgot to get rid of it. I suppose I had other things on my mind,” Sebastian sighed. He considered passing on the threat that Jim had given him about what would happen if John disturbed his work, then decided against him. John already knew caution was needed. No use making him paranoid.

            “Is this worth it? All the secrecy? Honestly, how long can we go about fooling them both?” John wondered, taking another sip of scotch. God, it was good.

            “It is for me,” Sebastian said. “And I don’t think Jim is a threat. He doesn’t seem curious as to who you are anymore, he just doesn’t want you interfering with my work. Which you’re not.”

            “Are you sure he’s not tricking you? He wouldn’t have followed you here, would he?” John glanced around the pub once more. Nobody seemed overly suspicious, but if they were good it would be impossible to tell.

             "He's got better things to do with his time than spy on his employee’s dating habits," Sebastian said. "Planning world domination and all that. I've been pretty thorough covering my tracks." He had to admit to himself, though, that if Jim ever got determined about John's identity, he would find out, no matter what. Sebastian couldn't even pretend that he could outsmart Jim, which was why this whole situation was so very, very stupid. Still, he couldn’t stay away. And when he was with John, it all seemed so harmless.

             John sighed, only feeling a _bit_ relieved. “Well...good. Getting kidnapped or killed isn't exactly how I want this evening to go...” he took another sip, contemplating.

             "Even if it was _me_ doing the kidnapping?" Sebastian grinned wolfishly. "I'd make it _very_ pleasurable. Just like last time."

             “Ooh. Well, I suppose I hadn't really considered _that._ I can't say I'd be horribly opposed,” John grinned. He slid one of his feet under the table to lightly nudge at the other's. Sebastian trailed his toe slowly up John's pant leg, scooting his chair closer, staring him in the eyes.

            John smiled a bit and reached out to grab Sebastian's hand, letting his thumb rub over his knuckles. He could stare into those cloudy grey eyes all night. Sebastian reached his free hand under the table and began rubbing John's knee, stroking up to squeeze his thigh. "What do you say to finishing these and then continuing this little rendezvous elsewhere?"

             “Fantastic,” John replied, picking up his glass to clink it against Sebastian's. 'To fooling our respective geniuses!'

            Sebastian grinned, feeling reckless, and drank the rest of his scotch in one go, keeping his eyes locked with John's, then once his glass was empty, he practically dragged John outside.

             John was holding back giggles, feeling a bit tipsy and Sebastian basically carried him out the door. John grabbed Sebastian's arm and looped it over his shoulder so he could walk right next to him and share his warmth. “So...where exactly are we going..?”

             "A hotel room I’ve already booked, where I intend to strip you of all dignity and clothes," Sebastian said, leaning in to smell John's neck as they walked, then licked up it slowly as they rounded a corner, giving his ear a discreet bite. "Yum, appetizer."

             John shuddered and batted at him, “Not in public, _Colonel_!” he reprimanded, repressing a grin.

             Sebastian laughed and moved his arm off John's shoulder and down his back to give him bum a squeeze before sliding his hand into John's back pocket. "I will do what I want, thanks very much."

             John gave a little surprised yelp and chuckled, moving his own arm to wrap around Sebastian's lower back, leaning against him as they walked. John realized at that moment, that even after only being with the man a few short times, he was definitely falling for him. And the thought brought a small smile to his lips.

             Sebastian liked feeling John's bum under his hand as they walked, but he liked John's little smile even more, feeling the corners of his own mouth turning up as he watched him. He had been smiling so much _more_ recently.

            They reached the hotel and stepped into the nearest elevator, headed for the 10th floor. As soon as the doors closed, Sebastian pinned John to the wall and leaned in close, ready to kiss him. "I missed you," he said, tormenting himself by keeping his lips apart from John's for just a moment longer before he leaned in and kissed him hungrily, catching John's bottom lip and pressing into him.

             John sighed softly and pressed back against Sebastian, kissing him back. A hand went up to brush against his light stubble and John melted against him. He had never felt this way before about anyone, and it surprised him that he was even _capable_ of feeling this way--caring so deeply about another person. Sherlock came close, but he was a friend, not a lover—an entirely different category. '”I missed you too,” he murmured, running his hands through the other's hair.

             Sebastian pressed into him harder, feeling John buckle beneath him. He groped at his hips, then when the elevator doors opened, he dragged John out by his collar and one-handedly unlocked the bedroom door before flinging John inside. "I hope you wore your dog tags, Captain, or you'll get a demerit," he said, pulling his old colonel hat from his jacket and donning it before attacking John, yanking off his jumper and throwing it on the floor.

             As a matter of fact, John had. It had been a last minute decision John stumbled backwards, smirking at the hat, wondering how he didn't have a boner his entire duration of military service. Just thinking about it and seeing Sebastian made him begin to harden up. He moved forward to start yanking off Sebastian's trousers, wanting them gone.

            “Don't worry, sir—I came prepared.” He tugged on the chain, letting the tags fall down the front of his shirt.

             Sebastian clutched at the chain and used it to drag John back to the bed, flinging him onto it, then quickly straddled him and began yanking at his shirt, ripping it open and sending buttons flying, as promised. He slid his hands up John's undershirt greedily, tossing it off as well, then bent to lick from John's waistband to his neck, detouring to lick over, bite and suck at John's nipples, his hand rubbing and petting at John's groin through his trousers.

             John was so overcome with stimulus that he didn't know what to pay more attention to—his groin, his stomach, his waist, his nipples, or the fact that he had just lost _another_ shirt to Sebastian...he'd have to start buying a personal wardrobe of cheap shirts just for the other man to rip off of him. Mm...yes, he quite liked that idea. His hands curled into the hair the back of his head, his thumbs brushing over the Colonel's hat. “Mmmm...Sebastian....”

             Sebastian yanked John's neck up by his dog tags, pressing his nose against John's, "That's _Colonel_. Ohh, Johnny, that's going to cost you." He dropped John's head back on the bed, trailing his open mouth down John's stomach once more, playfully bit widely and quite lightly over John's bulge, then moved down to yank off John shoes and socks. "Get these damn trousers off," he growled, then worked to finish yanking off his own trousers, shedding his jacket and shirt along the way until he was down to his pants and his dog tags.

            John's breath caught. “Yes, sir—“, and he jumped into action, flinging off he own belt and kicking off his trousers to reveal the bright red and white-trimmed pants he donned underneath.

             Sebastian laughed at John's pants. "Guess you wore red after all, Captain. Saucy." He crawled on top of John and kissed him, biting on his lower lip and invading John's mouth with his tongue, one hand traveling down to push down the waistband of John's pants just far enough to free his erection. "I can't wait to get in you," he said into John's mouth, beginning to squeeze and stroke John's cock and play with his balls. "Are you going to cooperate?"

             Oh fuck, this man turned John into jelly. He moaned softly into his mouth, “I hate to inform you, Colonel, sir...but I've been feeling rather rebellious today...” he bit hard on Sebastian's lower lip and drug it out.

             Sebastian grinned and made an animalistic growl as John dragged his lip out. Once he disentangled his lips, he slapped John on the face. "Off the bed, Captain." Sebastian leaped up and dragged over the straight-backed chair from the hotel desk, then grabbed the belt from his trousers on the floor, tapping his foot as he waited for John to get over to him.

             John raised an eyebrow as he moved over to him, his cock and balls still hanging from the top of his pants. “What's this?” he asked, a bit confused by the progression of events, though not against them.

             Sebastian slapped him again. "Further insubordination!" he barked, then yanked down John's red pants all the way, grabbing them off the floor, and holding them on his wrist as he lashed John's wrists together tightly in front of him with some cord he’d kept in his pocket for just such a thing. He grabbed a fistful of John's hair and yanked his head back. "We've got punishments for cheeky soldiers like you," he growled, then kissed John dominantly before wadding John's red pants and shoving them into his mouth, gagging him. He roughly spun John around and pushing him over the chair so John was bent over it, arse exposed.

            He kicked John's ankles apart with his feet and leaned over John so his breath was hot against the back of John's neck. "You are under _my_ command, Captain, and that means that you don't get to ask questions or take the reigns. Do I make myself clear?"

             John was quite sure he'd never been harder in his entire life. This whole thing seemed _so_ wrong, but _so_ right. It was like tasting a forbidden fruit, and John wanted more. His cheek stung and he was glad he'd only been wearing the underwear for about an hour before now, which made it much less disgusting—not that that was really what his mind was on. He let out a muffled sound and nodded his head as it was craned back in an almost painful position.

             "Good," Sebastian growled lowly, then released John's neck, biting him hard at the base of his hairline before bringing his arm back and spanking John hard on the arse. John’s eyes went wide as Sebastian’s hand collided with his arse and he made a small, surprised noise. _Why_ did this turn him on?! Why did this feel so good? The only sort of relationships John had been in before had been strictly vanilla, and this was such a huge jump from that, he was surprised that he didn't mind at all.

            Sebastian was having too much fun, straddling John and watching him writhe under him. He began spanking John faster. "Have you learned your lesson yet, Captain?" he panted as he smacked John's arse again and again.

            John let out a small groan into the gag, dropping his had and moving his feet a bit wider apart. Sebastian spanked John until he was too worked up to stand it anymore, then yanked the chair away from under John, forcing him onto the ground. He wedge a knee between John's legs, forcing him to keep his legs apart, then grabbed his hips and yanked them up so John's arse stayed in the air. He poured some lube on his fingers and began preparing John, liking the whimper he made as the cold lubricant touched his skin.

            "You think you're a big man, Captain, but we both know the truth, don't we?" He reached his free hand up to yank John's neck back by his tag chain as his fingers worked inside John. "You're nothing but a slut. You're my filthy bitch, and you just can't wait to have a Colonel's cock ruining your sweet self. Am I right?" He curled his fingers hard against John's prostate.

             John's eyes closed and he let out a muffled but pleasured whimper into the make-shift gag, pressing his hips back as Sebastian's fingers pushed into him. He was on his elbows and knees, wrists still bound, and all he could manage was a weak, desperate nod. He shuddered and moaned as Sebastian pressed against his prostate again.

             Sebastian was so fucking hard, seeing John whimper and trembled beneath him. He ghosted his fingertips along John's back, watching John's muscles twitch and shiver even more, then moved so the head of his cock was pressed teasingly against John's hole, his hands wrapping around to play with and squeeze John's chest and nipples.

            "So, pet, beg for it, or you're not getting any." Sebastian didn't know how he'd ever be able to keep that promise if John refused, but he could probably hold out long enough to hear John make some sexy moans.

            John arched his back, pressing his pecs farther into Sebastian's hands, loving the feel of the other's rougher hands on his skin. He pushed his hips back again, shoving against Sebastian's prick and let out a series of desperate moans and whimpers. He probably looked like a complete fool, but he didn't care. All he had room to think about at the moment was how badly he wanted Sebastian's cock to fill him and stretch him open.

             "I didn't quite hear that," Sebastian said, gripping John's hair and yanking John's head back again, sucking at the skin on John's back as he continued to nudge his cock torturously against John's opening.

            John let out and almost anguished sob into the gag, his cock hot and heavy between his legs. He needed this—he needed Sebastian to fuck him. He pressed back again, writhing beneath him.

             At John's pleading sob, Sebastian clutched John's hips and shoved all the way in, wallowing in the feeling, keeping his cock inside for longer than usual, breathing heavily into John's back. "God—John—" he said, breaking character for a moment. He kissed at his back tenderly, then scraped his teeth over the skin. He wanted to consume this man. John was like a drug. Once hadn't been enough. He wanted him, always.

             John's eyes went wide and he gasped around the gag as Sebastian thrust into him balls deep. Fuck. He dropped his forehead to the floor. He was going to have some embarrassing rug burns in the morning. “Nnnnngh...” he groaned, pushing back, wanting him even farther than possible.

             At the feeling of John's hips pushing back against him, Sebastian pulled out almost all the way then slammed back in, beginning at a punishing speed, panting and growling into John's spine, his rough demeanor returning. "You were just made to be ridden, weren't you, pet? What a good subordinate—you're always going to be mine, do you know that? Just try to escape—I will hunt you down and own you every fucking time, and—" he gasped as he regained his breath, beginning to sweat as he slammed against John's prostate again and again. He held onto John's shoulders to keep the man from collapsing beneath him, so forcefully was he fucking him. "And I'll reduce you to what you are going to be in just a few minutes—a quivering mess. You love it, don't you? You just _love_ it when I own you—"

            And _God_ was he right. John didn't think he was even capable of describing the way Sebastian made him felt. With each thrust, fireworks exploded behind John's eyes as Sebastian slammed against his prostate. He whimpered and moaned and incoherently pleaded into the gag, his eyes rolling back. It was all he could do to not collapse into a heap on the floor—and before long, he was already on the razor's edge of an orgasm.

             Sebastian continued growling out his monologue, his breath growing increasingly ragged and his voice husky as his pleasure built up to heights he'd never thought possible. "You love it, don't you—you—oh God—oh God, John—Oh my God—"

            He thrust into John as far as he could, drawing almost completely out so he could impale John with long thrusts, almost unable to breathe by how much pleasure was welling up in him. He thrust in a final time, exploding in pleasure, shouting out John's name desperately, then rolled off him to collapse on his back, sweaty and quivering, debilitated by one of the best orgasms he'd ever had.

             In perfect unison with the other, John let out a muffled cry of the other's name before he came as well, shooting onto the floor. He could feel a bit of Sebastian's come leaking out of him as he dropped to the floor in mind-numbing exhausting, rolling to his back. Holy fuck. That's all he could think at the moment. _Holy_ fuck, that had been good.

             Sebastian weakly pulled John's gag out of his mouth, laughing tiredly. "Oh my God," he panted again. It was impossible to maintain his hard Colonel persona at the moment, as receding waves of pleasure coursed through his body. He felt like he was floating in a hazy glow. And all he could think of was the increasingly strong idea that he loved John. He caught his breath and felt his hammering heart begin to slow down as he thought about this, then looked over at the man, who had a comical rug burn on his forehead. He laughed again. "C-can you walk? Otherwise...I haven't done my job..."

             John let out a weak, exhausted laugh, “Hell no...'” He raised his arms towards Sebastian and between gasps, “...wrists.”

             Sebastian rolled toward him and, instead of untying John, he lifted John arm's around his neck and leaned in to kiss him wetly, intoxicated by John's taste even now. He sucked slowly on John's tongue, his lips massaging John's. "Mmm. Maybe I'll just keep you..." he sighed, nuzzling against John.

             John closed his eyes, again melting against the other man. His heated skin, his rough, but also gentle touch. His taste, his feel, his smell—everything about him. John's heart fluttered in his chest as he looped his bound hands over Sebastian's neck as he kissed him back. “And maybe I'll let you...” he murmured in response.

             Sebastian gave a pleased, low noise in his throat and hooked his leg around John's hips to pull him closer. They were both sticky with sweat and come, and once Sebastian had regained his breath he untangled John's bound arms from his neck and stood up, a bit shakily, looking down at the still-bound John, lying on the floor.

            In an impulsive mood, he scooped John into his arms, laughing a bit as John let out a small, surprised yelp. He carried John bridal-style to the bathroom and set him gently on his feet. He turned on the water to the shower to let the water heat up, then began untying John's wrists, looking straight into his eyes as he did so. There were words bunched in his throat, but he couldn't get them out, so he held John's gaze as the binds finally dropped to the floor and he rubbed John's raw skin tenderly with his hands.

            When Sebastian set him down and started to until him, John, likewise, could not look away. His eyes locked with Sebastian and when they were free, John lifted his hands to gently pull Sebastian in for a soft, tender kiss, lingering for a moment before he pulled away from the other, their lips just a hair's breath apart. Shit, John thought. Shit, shit, shit. This was not good. This was so not good—but Sebastian was like a drug that kept sucking him in and John knew in this instant that he would never be able to quit Sebastian. Not now, not ever.

             "John—I think—" Sebastian had never ever felt compelled to say the words “I love you” before. Ever. He swallowed. "I think the water's hot. Come on." He pulled back the shower curtain and stepped in, waiting for John to join him.


	10. Jim

 "Can you stay the night, or do you have to leave?" Sebastian asked as he and John washed each other off in the shower.

            “I should probably go...I would love, _love_ to stay...but I've got work early tomorrow morning, and seeing as you've ripped off my only shirt and my pants are now soaked in my own drool—“ John chuckled, his face flushing, “I should probably head back soon.” He sighed as he rinsed himself.

            “Fair enough. That was...that was fun, wasn't it?" He grinned. "You can't say you're not a sex kitten after all _that_."

            John chuckled again, 'You will never _ever_ hear me call myself a sex kitten—although I'm not saying I deny it.” He grinned and leaned up to press a kiss to Sebastian's lips as he reached behind him and shut off the water.

             Sebastian grinned into the kiss. "Love it when you're cheeky." He smiled down at John as he reached behind him and squeezed his bum, watching John wince. "Have fun avoiding sitting down for the next few days."

             John gave him a sort of annoyed, but playful bat on the arm. “Luckily for _me_ surgery doesn't often involve much sitting, so I'm sure I'll be fine.” He just hoped he wouldn't have to endure _too_ many amused, knowing looks from Sherlock. The thought made his cheeks redden. “You'll be staying here, then?” he asked as he climbed out, grabbing them each a towel.

             "Might as well. I paid for the room, and it's not like we soiled the bed sheets," Sebastian said, toweling off his hair. "I did my assignment—Jim can't complain that I'm not in." He stepped back out in the room. "Did you want to borrow my t-shirt? I've got a spare, and seeing as how I ruined your shirt..."

             John gave another little laugh. “Um, yeah, actually. That'd be great,” he said as he wrapped his towel around his waist and headed out to pick up what clothes hadn't been ruined. He smirked and tossed his pants at Sebastian as he walked out, “We'll make a trade. Consider it a souvenir.”

             "I'll treasure them forever," Sebastian laughed, unwadding them to look them over, then pulled John close by his towel ends and yanked the shirt over his head. "If I'm going to forcefully undress you, I may as well do the opposite." Once John head emerged from the neck hole, he leaned in and kissed him. "I wish you could stay."

             John smiled against the kiss, 'Mm. Next time—and I'll be sure to bring an extra change of clothes just in case you get set upon ruining _another_ one of my shirts.' John kissed him again quickly before he grabbed his jeans and started tugging them on. 'Looks like I'll be going home au naturale.'

             "Sexy," Sebastian grinned, giving John a final kiss after he'd found and donned his shoes. "Call me soon, promise?"

             'When I get _home_ , you mean?' he laughed, “What? Are you afraid I'm going to get scooped up and seduced by a mysterious stranger?”

             "Well, you've proved yourself to be very seducible," Sebastian said. "Can you blame me for worrying?"

             John wiggled his eyebrows. “I supposed not. After all, I _am_ a ‘sex kitten,’ aren't I?” He tugged his jumper on over the t-shirt and slid his feet back into his shoes. He sighed and stood up as he zipped his coat. “Right. Well, I'm off—I'll call you soon.”

             "Right," Sebastian kissed him a final time. "Thanks for the good romp." He smiled as he watched John leave. He loved him. He did. He was in love with John Watson. How had that happened? He couldn't wipe the goofy grin off his face as he finished drying himself off and crawled into bed, his heart feeling too big for his chest.

 

            Over the next few months, John and Sebastian saw each other as often as they got the chance, never meeting in the same spot twice, always booking different hotel rooms. Sebastian couldn’t get enough. It wasn’t just the sex—it was how John refused to be intimidated by him, how he was always knocking him down a peg with a sarcastic remark. John made him want to be a better man. John was equally taken with Sebastian. The man’s cockiness concealed a very caring heart, and he was fascinating to talk to. He was always sad when their dates came to an end.

            He had just left Sebastian’s hotel room one evening after a lot of pleading from Sebastian to stay, but he had work early the next morning.

            “I have to go, I’m sorry, I’ll call!” he laughed, dragging himself away, eyes locked on Sebastian until he rounded the corner of the hallway, grinning to himself.

            He stepped into the breezy, cool night, smiling up at the stars and whistling on his way to the tube station. At a stop light, a car pulled up next to him and the door opened. Mycroft, surely. Instead of an attractive woman, Mycroft’s usual messenger, however, it was an intimidating and rough-looking man who stepped out of the car. He pulled John close and pressed a gun against his stomach. "In the car now, no fuss," he said quietly.

            John's heart stopped and he put his hands up. “Whoa...whoa...fine, okay...” He eyed the sleek black car. Whoever was inside wasn't looking for a hold up. The man slid back into the car and crawled into the driver's seat, leaving John the seat next to Jim Moriarty, who was sitting in an immaculate tailored suit, legs crossed, surveying John darkly.

            John’s blissful elation was wiped away completely, replaced but utter terror. He fought to keep his voice steady—what did this mean? Did he know? “...Moriarty....what do you want?”

             "Buckle up, John. Car safety's _ever_ so important," Jim drawled sarcastically. The car set in motion, a very smooth ride, and Jim gave a long sniff as John slowly put on his belt buckle, no alternative available. He watched Jim carefully, his jaw set.

             "Mmm, _someone's_ been fucked. Showered afterwards, at least." He smiled thin-lipped at John, his dark eyes hungry. "How is Sebastian in the sack, Johnny-Boy? Does he just _destroy_ you with military talk? I know he's got a fetish, and who better to play out that kink with than a little ol' army doctor?"

            Oh fuck. Oh God, oh fuck oh _fuck_! He had to steel his ground. “...I don't know what you're talking about. _What do you want_?”

            "Johhhnn...." Moriarty dragged the name out on his tongue, as if tasting it. There was a malicious, sarcastic note to the way he said it. "Out of all the people for Sebastian to choose. A one-time fuck, sure, I can see the thrill. But our _Sebastian_ , making the good army doctor a _boyyfriend_? That is simply too much. John, John John—" he trained his black eyes at him. "What _am_ I going to do with you?"

             John swallowed, trying to swallow down his rage. '”How about you let me out of your damn car and leave _both_ of us alone. It's none of _your_ business anyway,” he said icily.

             Moriarty cracked his neck from one side to the other. "None of my business?" He laughed icily as the car pulled to a stop. He waited until the driver got out and opened the door, once more training a gun at John. "Get out and follow him inside."

             John glared at him, but didn’t fancy being shot, so he stepped out. He wondered if he could get his hand into his pocket and text Sherlock. Or maybe he could just call him and put it on speaker phone so the other could listen in and deduce where he was. He didn't particularly want Sherlock finding out about Sebastian, but he didn't want to die either, so casually as he could, he slipped his hands in his jacket pocket.

            Jim strode inside his house languidly after John. A chair and already been set out for him. "Normally I'd never take you into one of my own flats, but seeing as how you’ve been here already— _Sit_ ," he commanded in a voice that would send shivers down anyone's spine.

            “I’d rather stand, thanks,' John said as he pushed the on button on his phone in his pocket. Sherlock was on speed dial, so hopefully this wouldn't be too difficult.

             Jim delivered a swift punch to John's gut, sending him toppling into the chair. He flicked his eyes to the driver, who yanked John's hands behind his back and cuffed him. Jim grabbed John's phone from him. "Ohh, Johnny!" He grinned and laughed, backhanding John hard across the face, making John gasp at the pain. "Adorable. You thought you could get away with something like this?" He turned off John’s phone and pocketed it.

            "I want you to consider what I'm about to say, Dr. Watson. Now, you can listen quietly, or I can cut out that tongue of yours now, and _then_ you can listen." He trained the knife point under John's chin. "Which'll it be?"

             John clamped his mouth shut and looked up at the man darkly.

            “Incidentally, how are you liking the handcuffs? Bleeding yet? I sharpened them just for you..." He leaned in toward John as one hand slid down John's arm and touched his wrist. His fingers came back spotted with blood. He licked it off slowly. "Yum. Here are your options, John. I could make good money off you. I could sell you." He pulled back and looked John up and down.

            "In good physical condition, knows how to follow orders, already has a history of being a slut. By tomorrow you could be chained to a bed in Bangkok for the remaining prime years of your life, being drugged and fucked and diseased into oblivion. Sure, you'd have an attitude at first, but between the heroin you'd quickly become a junkie for the and the regular beatings, you'd be an incoherent fuck toy before the month was out. Then..." he leaned closer to John, letting his breath bounce off John's skin. "When your teeth have fallen out and you’re so ill that even the worst perverts don’t want your worn out old arsehole anymore, you'll be thrown out of the brothel and into the street to beg. That could be your new life, John. I could have you on a plane to Thailand in a couple hours. I even have a plane ticket for you, and a slave trader who's _very_ interested."

             John's chest constricted at this horrible fate. He stared at Jim in disbelief. Maybe it was just a bluff...or maybe it wasn't. His stomach dropped and he fought to keep his expression neutral as the cuffs bit in to his wrists. Oh God...oh God, oh God... he thought wildly of Sebastian and Sherlock—neither of them able to find him as he was drugged and fucked to death. Attempting keep his voice steady and bored, “And what's my _other_ option?”

            Jim grinned. “You’ll work for me. You’ll be at my beck and call, run whatever errands I need, provide me with any other…services I’m needing.” His eyes roamed over John.

             John swallowed hard and looked away. He balled his hands into fists. He could feel blood sliding down his wrists and dripping from his knuckles to the floor. He said, voice strained, “I really don't have a _choice,_ do I?”

             "Of course you do, Johnny Boy. Sexual slavery in eastern Asia, or doing some odd jobs for me. Granted, it's a fairly _obvious_ choice..." Jim smiled down at him. "What do you say? Hm?"

             John clenched his jaw. “You know my choice, Jim. I'm not going to Asia.” _Unless you order me to_...he thought to himself, realizing that if Jim ordered him to, he’d have to. John didn't know what to say or do. “Are you wanting Sebastian to know about this?” he asked flatly.

             "You are not to tell Sebastian, unless you want him dead. Consider it the same with Sherlock. Understood?"

             John was biting down so hard, he felt like his teeth were about to crumble.            “ _Yes_ ,” he growled.

            "Good," Jim smiled amiably, then leaned in towards John, his chest rubbing against him as he wrapped his arms around John and began unlocking his handcuffs. "Then let's give this a practice, shall we?"

             John didn't say anything as Jim tugged at the cuffs, trying not to wince as the metal sliced even more into his skin before they finally dropped to the floor.

             "Ooh. What a mess you've made, Johnny." Jim held out his bloody hands for John to see, then a wicked gleam came into his eyes. "Lick them clean."

            John grit his teeth and glared up at him, appalled and disgusted by the demeaning nature of the task, and didn't move.

             Jim rolled his eyes. "Not off to a good start, pet." With his less bloody fingers, he carefully pulled a plane ticket out of his breast pocket. "O'Seanassy!" he called. "Bring the car around. You'll need to escort Doctor Watson to Heathrow." His eyes glinted daringly.


	11. Love

            “ _Wait_!” John started. His stomach dropped. He took a deep breath and swallowed hard before hesitantly leaning forward and starting to lick his own blood from the man's hands, feeling sick.

             "Nevermind, O'Seanassy," Jim said as the man stepped into the room. "Pet decided to cooperate after all." The other man left the room once more, and Jim looked down at John, running a hand through John's hair after it was cleaned and John began licking on the next one. "That's a good boy. I can't wait to see what other talents that tongue has."

             John had to fight back the urge to gag and vomit as he sucked down his own blood. He was so disgusted, more with himself than anything. What level had he stooped to? He licked off the last bit of blood and sat back in the chair, not looking up at him, and wiped his mouth.

             Jim seized John's bleeding wrists and licked around them, clearing up the blood. "You'll have some explaining to do to Sebastian and Sherlock about these cuts. Time to get creative."

             John fought the desire to pull his hands back as Jim's tongue slid around his wrists, lapping at his skin. When he'd finished, John stood back up and said icily. “So I'm free to go?”

             "Don't forget this..." Jim stepped up to him and slid his phone back into the inner pocket of his coat. "We'll be in touch. And remember, John. Breathe a word to Sherlock or Sebastian, and people will die. Mouth off to me or disobey me again, and you'll be handcuffed on an airplane en route to your new owners within the day. Ta now! I took the liberty of topping up your Oyster card."

             John lingered, glaring at him for a moment before he breezed past him and left the house, slamming the door behind him. He didn't know what to do now...home to Baker Street, or back to Sebastian? After a minute of hesitation, he hailed a cab and headed back to the hotel, trying to stave back tears of horror, confusion, and helplessness, all tinged with a bit of pain as his wrists had started to bleed again. When he reached the hotel, he paid the cabbie, hopped from the car and headed back up to the room, knocking at the door.

             Sebastian opened it, cigarette in mouth, a grin on his face when he saw John. "Well, _hello_ again so soon—John, what's wrong?" He stepped back, letting John come in. The man was on the verge of tears. He pulled John over to the bed and sat him down. "John, what happened?"

             John just shook his head. He couldn't say anything, but he wanted to _so_ badly. He wanted to tell Sebastian everything. He sat on the bed, the taste of iron in his mouth, and clamped his jaw to keep it from trembling. He pressed his hands to his eyes, his bloody wrists poking from his dark jacket.

             Sebastian gently took John's wrists in his rough hands, looking them over. "John—what are these?" he asked, a tinge of fear in his voice. "Where'd you get these marks from?" They were still fresh, obviously. Blood leaked onto his hands, and he dashed to the bathroom to grab a towel, wrapping it around John's wrists and pressing them together to stop the bleeding. He tried to meet John's eyes.

             John wouldn't, _couldn't_ look up at him, and just shook his head again. He could feel the concern and worry rolling off of Sebastian and he couldn't help the small, choked, sob that escaped his mouth. He tried to stop himself, but it was the catalyst into uncontrollable crying. John felt like such a fool. Sebastian must see him as such a weak, pathetic person...and maybe it was better that way. Maybe it would be better if Sebastian just called everything off. Then, at least, John wouldn't have to worry about Jim threatening him to kill Sebastian. That was one less person he had to be concerned about dying.

             "Oh, God....John—" Sebastian's heart constricted as he saw this man begin to cry. He'd thought he'd seen John at his most vulnerable, but it was nothing compared to this. He wanted desperately to be able to make it better, but all he could do was reach out and pull John into his big arms, cradling John's head. "John, you can tell me..." Sebastian held him tighter. "What do you need me to do?"

             John just shook his head again and leaned in to him, crying against his chest. He moved closer, Sebastian's warm and strong arms wrapping around him comforting, but at the same time, an unwelcome reminder of what Jim now held over him and he cried even harder.

             Sebastian grew angry and frustrated, not at John, but at whatever was making John so unhappy that he couldn't even tell him. He had never cared this much for anyone, ever. If anyone else had come to Sebastian crying, he wouldn't have cared—or even if he had, he would back away awkwardly and hope they got better, at a safe distance from him. But he couldn't let go of John now, and the words tumbled out of his mouth before he realized they were forming.

            "I love you, John," he murmured, and meant every word.

            As much as John wanted to hear the words, all they did were make things worse and his tears doubled, his body shaking horribly. “I—I love you, too,” he choked out, wishing that it wasn't true. But it was. It so, most definitely, was. John had never felt the way he felt about Sebastian about anyone else. Sure, they hadn't known each other for _that_ long, but he could easily and _happily_ spend the rest of his life with him...or...at least he could've _before_.

             "You do?" Sebastian asked, gently tilting John's face up towards his and wiping away John's tears with his thumbs. "Do you, John?"

             “I do—I really, really do.” And it was horrible.

             Sebastian's heart constricted. Nobody had ever loved him before, or at least nobody had ever said the words. His mother had died at birth and his father beat him until he'd run away at 15. "Stay with me tonight," Sebastian begged. "Please, John. Just stay. You're safe with me, always."

             Tears still sliding down his face, John sniffled, trying to stop his crying and leaned in to him, tucking his head under Sebastian's chin. He was safe with him. And right now, that was all he wanted.

            Sebastian knelt in front of John, bending to gently unlace and pull off his shoes, then pulled down the covers to the bed and pulled John inside, crawling in next to him. He stroked down John's arm and along his thigh, burrowing close to John, before reaching behind him and clicking off the light. "John, it's okay...whatever it is, I'm here," he whispered, running a hand through John's hair.

             John swallowed around the lump in his throat and nodded against his chest. He sat up for a moment, pulling off his coat and then snuggled back against him, Sebastian's hand in his hair comforting. He curled into him and pulled up the covers, murmuring again, “I love you, Sebastian.”

             "Nobody's ever said that to me before," Sebastian admitted aloud this time, into John's neck, which he tenderly and slowly kissed.

             “No one's ever said it to me and meant it,” John mumbled. John tilted Sebastian's head to kiss him on the lips as well.

             Sebastian sighed into the kiss, pressing into it. "Well, I mean it, John. John Watson...is that your full name?" He propped his head up on his hand, rubbing his feet against John's.

             “John Hamish Watson...and you?” he asked wiping his tears away, wanting to just forget about Jim.

             "John Hamish Watson," Sebastian murmured against John's cheek, smiling against John's skin.

            “Mmhm...are you just Sebastian Moran, then?” he asked, moving even closer to him.

             "John Sebastian Teague Moran," he mumbled out. "Bit of a mouthful, come to think of it...funny that both our first names are John...though I would never answer to John." He smiled and moved down to kiss John carefully and softly.

             John blinked in surprise. “Your name's John as well?” He gave Sebastian a small smile. “John Sebastian Teague Moran....it's nice,” he said softly, placing a light kiss on his lips.

             Sebastian caught John's chin for a longer kiss, running a hand down John's arm to his wrist. He wanted to ask John about it once more, but it was clear that John wanted to get his mind off whatever had happened.

            He ran a hand through John's hair again, studying John's face. John looked stressed still, but at least his body had relaxed into Sebastian's. "Sleep well, darling." He pressed his lips to John's creased forehead.

            John gave a small nod and curled back in to him. “Night, Sebastian...” It surprisingly didn't take John long to nod off and go to sleep in the other man's arms.

             Sebastian watched him protectively as he fell asleep, laying a final kiss on his forehead before he settled his head on his pillow, wondering what had happened to John, awful solutions running through his head as he fell asleep as well.

            When John woke up, he realized he was late for work. He didn't care. He wanted to stay with Sebastian, so he called Sarah, stepping into the bathroom so as not to wake Sebastian. “Sarah...hi. I...I won’t be coming in today. I'm feeling awful—I know, I'm so sorry, I was mugged last night...I just need a day or two of recovery...yeah...yes, of course. ...no, no, I'll be fine, just banged up a bit...I'll see you in a few days. Thanks.” He then went back out to get into bed with Sebastian.

             "Mmm, playing hooky, Doctor?" Sebastian sighed sleepily, pulling John close to him again. "How are you feeling, John?"

              John closed his eyes, but after Sebastian asked how he was feeling, he tensed up again. “I'm fine, Sebastian...it's nothing to worry about.”

            Sebastian felt John tense and sighed, reluctantly sitting up. He needed to shower anyway. “Then why won't you tell me?" Sebastian asked, stripping off his shirt.

             John's eyes dropped away from his. “Because I can't.”

            Sebastian gave a long sigh and turned away from John, the tiger on his back twitching as his back muscles flexed. He pulled off his trousers and ruffled his hair with his hands. He was frustrated, but he knew John needed only tenderness right now.

             John glanced up at him, his eyes trailing along the tiger. “I'm sorry.” John pursed his lips. He could tell Sebastian was frustrated. Maybe he should just let him relax away from John. He pushed himself off the bed. “I'm um...I'll just head out, okay?” he looked around, grabbing his jacket again.

             "You don't have to, John! I'm just going to shower, but then we can order up a breakfast, all right?" Sebastian stood up and headed to the bathroom. He headed in, then popped his head out. "Oh, and John—I love you." He smiled, then disappeared, closing the door.

             John hesitated, then melted a bit, smiling at those three words. How had he forgotten? John's insides warmed, then immediately chilled as Jim flashed back into his mind. When Sebastian disappeared into the bathroom, John crawled back into the king-size bed and flipped on the telly, ordering a pay-per-view movie.

            He was only five minutes into it when he phone rang. He answered it with trepidation.

            " _Johnny_! Ready for your first set of errands for me?" Moriarty's voice crackled through the phone.

             John grit his teeth and hissed, “ _What do you want_?”

             The playful tone dropped out of Jim's voice and he was all business. "There's an apartment near King's Cross, address to follow. Pick up the package waiting there. Do you have your gun with you?"

             “No,” John said flatly. “I'm a doctor, not an assassin.”

             "Pity. Go to the second address I'm texting you, a jewelry shop. Tell the owner that you like crustaceans, and he'll give you a pick of any of the guns in the back room. Once you have the package, bring it back to my address, and pick me up a kebab on your way. If you take more than forty minutes I will gouge out one of your eyes. Or one of Sebastian's. Hell, I'll let you pick. Ta." Jim hung up.

             John's heart stopped. He swallowed as he slowly lowered the phone from his ear and slipped it into his pocket. He pulled on his jacket and shoes, then went to knock on the bathroom door—Sebastian was still in the shower, judging by the sound of the water coming from inside. “Sebastian?  I...I have to go...something came up...I'll...I'll call you later, okay?”

             Sebastian turned the water off. "What did you say, John?"

             “I have to go. There's...there's something I've got to do, okay? I...”  John cleared his throat, trying to sound natural and feeling like he was failing horribly, “I'll call you later, all right?”

             Sebastian ran out of the door. "John—what the hell is going on?!" but John was already out the door. Sebastian cursed and slammed his hand against the door frame.

            John steeled himself as he walked down the hall and left the hotel. He followed Jim's directions, and had to hurry getting the package to his townhouse, needing to pay the cabbie extra money to speed.

             When he arrived, for Jim had given him the keycode inside, Jim was on the phone with someone else. "And the other hamburger will _also_ be made out of your lungs," he said in a sing-song, then hung up. He looked John up and down. "One minute and thirty seconds to spare. Not awful, Johnny." He took the package from John and looked him over. "I had a long night, doctor, hardly any sleep. How about you?"

            “It’s none of your business. Is that all?” he asked flatly, not particularly wanting to stick around longer than he had to.

             Jim grabbed John's throat with one hand and his balls with the other, squeezing them both painfully as he shoved him against the walls. "I don't know if I made this clear, John. You belong to me. You answer to me. You follow my orders and you answer my questions, no matter how trivial or private they seem to you. Don't try my patience, Johnny."

             John let in a surprised gasp and winced as he was slammed against the wall, Jim's hand clenching his groin, and shoved him away. “I slept _fine_ ,” he growled in annoyance. “ _Happy_?”

             Jim grinned, secretly pleased at how resilient John was. Most people were shitting themselves in terror within five minutes of meeting him, and the fact that John wasn't intrigued him, especially considering that he'd strapped a bomb to the man. "Very," he said, then frowned theatrically. "Except...my back is so _sore_ , and my masseuse doesn't come in until Wednesday. Would you mind?" He sighed in fake distress, smirking at John.

             John gave him a disgusted look. “Then why don't you call up your masseuse and tell them to come today instead?” He had zero desire to rub down the criminal.

             "Because that's not _nearly_ as entertaining, Johnny, and I detest being bored." Jim stripped off his jacket and lay on the floor. “Whenever you're ready. My shoulders are especially tense," he said, smirking into the carpet. It was fun, testing John's limits. He was starting off easy, of course. Things would get so much worse, but he needed to give John a bit of time to grow more at ease around him.

             John looked down at him, “You're a pig, you know that?”

             "I've been called worse, darling. Now get to work, or you'll find out what happens when I get bored _and_ angry," Jim said.

             John ground his teeth together and got down on the floor next to him and started to massage the other man's back. He was shit at it. Usually this was something that bothered him, especially when it came to relationships, but this time, he was rather pleased that he could use the best of his abilities and it would still be bad.

             Jim winced and bore it as best as he could. “ _Ow,_ you fucking moron, that makes it hurt worse! Rub your palm there—can't you _feel_ the knots? No, move your fingers lower. No, _down_!" He barked commands for a couple more minutes before finally irritably flipping over, knocking John away from him and sitting up. "You’re a _doctor,_ and you’re shit at this!" he said. "Didn't anyone ever teach you to massage before?"

             John gave a cheeky smile. 'I know. And they've certainly tried. Done so soon?'

             "Well, I suppose so, John," Jim said lightly, standing and straightening his suit. "Now I'm bored, angry, _and_ in pain." He grinned evilly. "So. Want to play a game? It'll cheer me up to no end."

             'No, thank you, I'd rather not,' he said coolly.

             Jim shrugged lightly, casually grabbing a fire poker from the stand by the hearth, and before John could follow him, he cracked it hard against the back of John's legs, sending him toppling to his knees on the ground. He stood behind John, straddling him, and, grabbing the poker at each end, forced it against John's windpipe and under his chin, pushing it up so that John was forced to look up at him. " _This_ game is called, how much can I injure John without Sebastian and Sherlock noticing?"


	12. Taken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :( :( :( :( :( :( :( :(

 John stared up at Jim in horror, choking as the poker pressed against his windpipe. He reached up to grab it, trying to yank it away. He could already tell it was bruising. Sherlock would notice this right away.

             Jim seemed to realize this too, and eased up on the pressure against John's windpipe, but kept it under his chin so John was still looking up. He looked down at John's panicked expression. _Much_ better. "This is a tricky game. No bruising, no blood, no broken bones. Others might run dry of ideas. But there are places and ways I can hurt you that won't leave a single mark." Jim fell to his knees behind John and dug his fingers hard into John's kidney, singing in John's ear, "Johnny, Johnny, Johnny....if you hadn't been so ornery, this could all have been avoided. You could be on your way back to your cosy little flat by now."

            John let out a cry of pain, arching away from Jim's touch. “St- _Stop_!”

             "Why should I, John? You've done nothing to earn it," Jim said, boring a fingernail into the spinal bone at the base of John's neck, twisting against it painfully as he kept his other hand jammed into John's kidney, moving it up a bit to hit a new spot.

             John shuddered and cried out again, “I'm _sorry_!”

             "Mmm, you are _now_ , aren't you? And you're going to be much more sorry when this is all over." Jim relished John's shudder and his small whimpering moan as he twisted his hand against John's kidney. "Ohh, do that again," he crooned, then backed away just far enough to kick John square in the back, pinning him to the ground. He straddled John’s lower back, dragging his nails down his back. "And you know what happens next, don't you, John?"

            John didn't know what was coming next and he didn't _want_ to. He shook his head just a bit, more scared than he'd like to admit to.

             "Playing innocent? Maybe that's better..." Jim pinched a nerve in John's neck and watched him fall unconscious. John had never piqued his curiosity in the least, that is, before he discovered that he was having a secret tryst with his most loyal gunman.

            John had always seemed cute in an innocent, wholesome, dull way, but John had far more bite and ballsiness to him than Jim had anticipated. He remembered how John had seized Jim and told Sherlock to run back at the pool. The man had stamina, of course. He couldn't wait to ruin him.

 

            When John woke up, he was on his stomach, blindfolded and tightly bound, spread-eagled and, from what he could feel, naked on a bed. His hips were propped up on some sort of padded pillow that left his ass sticking up in the air and his face in an awkward uncomfortable position.

            It took John a moment to figure out where he was, and when it finally donned on him he panicked. He tried to cry out only to find he had been gagged. He yanked at the bonds which he quickly found were the same sharpened cuffs as before. He immediately stopped as he felt blood spilling down his forearms and the metal biting into his skin.

             "Is this a big enough hint for you, Johnny, or do I need to make it more obvious?" Jim's voice floated from somewhere behind John, and John felt a caressing, gloved hand trail up his back. "I'm _so_ curious to see how the slut takes it..."

             John squirmed underneath him, trying to get him off, and at the same time, trying to keep from pulling on the cuffs at his wrists. He tried shouting in protest into the gag, feeling panic rise in his chest.

             "How does it feel, Johnny? To have James Moriarty rendering you entirely helpless?" Jim slipped off one of his gloves and slid his bare hand around to John's stomach, splaying it above his cock, then grabbed a fistful of John's pubes and yanked at them, laughing.

            John cried out into the gag, jerking his hips backwards, pained and embarrassed.

             "This is a first for me...I've never been with anyone who knew who I really was before," Jim said, bending down to bite hard on John's arse, making John cry out. "Except for Sebastian, of course..." He shoved John's arse cheeks apart. "Hmm, that won't do, Johnny. Not at all. I'm going to fix that for you." Jim slid off the bed, leaving the room.

             John's heart pounded, wondering what on earth Jim was talking about it, but far more dominant thought in his head was Sebastian. Sebastian had been with _Jim_?? John shook his head. He didn't believe it. The thought was preposterous. He thought back to Sebastian and where he'd left him in the shower. He stomach knotted he bit down hard on the gag. His entire body tensed up as he heard Jim come back, panicked.

             "Sebby'll think you did this just for him. And you'll have to let him think that, won't you?"

            John felt John crawl up behind him to straddle him once more. A hand stroked down the cleft of his arse. John's stomach dropped and he squirmed in the restraints again, the handcuffs biting into his wrists painfully.  Did _what_ for him?

             "It's not so bad as it goes on..." Jim said, redonning his gloves, pushing John's arse apart. He spreading something warm along it, then pressed something else onto it. John realized what it was in an instant and began squirming and thrashing and whimpering into his gag. Jim was _waxing_ his arse. He was mortified.

            Jim  ripped the two strips off in one go, and John cried out, eyes watering.             "It's the coming off that's the real kicker."

             John buried his face into the pillow. He wanted to die of mortification. He had never felt more dehumanized or disgusting. He'd rather get shot again than go through with all of this—and he was sickened by the fact. What would Sebastian say? John didn't want to think about it as he arched his back and pushed his hips away from Jim.

             "Mm, _much_ better. You clean up well, Johnny," Jim said, then his tongue was sliding up between John's cheeks. His tongue found John's hole and began pushing its way inside.

             John whimpered and tried jerking away again, but his struggling did was cause more and deeper cuts on his wrists which were starting to bleed profusely, blood running down his forearms to his elbows and dripping onto the bed. So, with disgust and reluctance, John forced himself to hold still, hoping it would mean things would finish faster anyway.

             "Love the noises you make, pet..." Jim said. "Makes me want to hear the uncensored version." He reached up and unbuckled John's gag, leaving it up to John to spit it out, then lined himself up and shoved painfully into John until he was inside, balls-deep.

             As the gag came out, John decided that he wasn't going to make a peep. That changed abruptly when Jim shoved into to him. The pain was excruciating; he had already been tense and Jim hadn’t prepared him at all. He let out a twisted, pained cry. It was quite possibly one of the most painful things John had ever experienced and he couldn't help the tears the spilled from the corner of his eyes.

             Jim closed his eyes and let out a pleasured groan as John enveloped him. He clutched at John's hips. "Ohhh, _Johhn_ ," he sighed. "I have to admit....it's been a while for me. This is... _heavenly_." He pulled out almost all the way then thrust in again, relishing John's cries of pain and the feel of John's warm tightness around you. "Mmm, you are _delicious_....I can see why Seb came back for seconds." He thrust out and in again, beginning a slow but rough rhythm, letting John feel every inch of him in exquisite, painful detail. "And you probably think he does it because he _likes_ you or something. You've got a little crush, haven't you, doctor? Maybe a bit _more_ than." Jim picked up the pace. "Adorable.”

             John's face was screwed up in agony as the tears fell from his eyes. He wanted to curl up and die. He wouldn't be able to walk straight after this; Sebastian would know something had happened. He'd just have to go without seeing him for a couple of days. Sherlock would know too, though...although he might just think it was Sebastian. He clenched his jaw and balled his fists as Jim continued to painfully rape him.

             "Answer me this, John," Jim said, continuing to thrust in hard, his breath growing shallow. "Has he ever let you top? Hm?"

             John didn't say anything in response. He was too busy trying not to cry out in pain or let out another choked sob.

             "No? Want to know why?" Jim picked up to the fastest speed he could muster. He was riding toward an intense orgasm, and it was all he could do to keep his thoughts straight. "Because he only bottoms for _me_ , John. His devotion will always be with me, no matter what you—ff-fuck, John—FUCK!" He gave a few final deep thrusts and came deep inside of John, holding himself there and not pulling out until he was limp.

             John couldn't help but let his sob escape as Jim spoke. He wanted to believe he was lying, but now he didn't know. He could feel Jim come inside of him and he felt dirty and horrified and so, _so_ ashamed. He was crying now, albeit silently. Thank God he hadn't gotten hard. He would never have been able to forgive himself for that. “Can I go now?” he asked quietly, his voice hoarse.

            "Nah, I'm not quite finished with you, John. You were _very_ rude today," Jim said. He straddled John's back and uncuffed him, then immediately used one of the cuffs to cuff his hands behind his back.

            Jim moved to uncuff John's ankles, licking the blood off his hands when he was through, then rolled John onto his back. "You ever wondered what it's like to be pleasured by someone who can read your every twitch and sigh and pulse? I can figure out _exactly_ what you like..." Jim began kissing down from John's navel, tender kisses that had just enough pressure and sucking to make anyone's eyes roll back and skin erupt in goosebumps.

             John squeezed his eyes shut. “No...please no...I'm sorry—please don't—I'm sorry,” John pleaded, horrified by how good it felt. He didn’t want to enjoy this. He couldn’t.

             “Honey...hush,” Jim cooed, beginning to gently cradle and fondle John's balls, stroking his finger back against John's prenium, then licked achingly slowly up John's length.

             John's face was screwed up in horror as he felt himself starting to get hard. God. This was it then. He'd try and make it go quick. He'd pretend it was Sebastian. He pursed his lips, refusing to let out any sound.

             "You know what the best part of this is, John?" Jim said quietly, stroking up and down John's thighs. He paused his talking to take one of John’s balls in his mouth, sucking on it. John closed his eyes, gasping. "You will always be comparing me to Sebastian after this, whether you want to or not.” He took the other ball in his mouth now, flicking his tongue along with it, then pulled away once more. “If Sebastian ever gives you head, that is.” He dragged his lower lip along the underside of John's cock, then took the head in his mouth, sucking and running his tongue along slit.

             John just barely held in a whimper. He knew it was true, of course, and he absolutely loathed it. Even when he was with Sebastian, now, he would be thinking about Jim. Sebastian. _Sebastian._ He tried desperately to think of Sebastian's mouth on him and not Jim's. It almost helped..almost.

             Jim slid John almost entirely into his mouth, then pulled out suddenly and snarled, " _Look at me_." He glared up at John darkly. "I want your eyes on me when your toes curl and you come into my mouth."

            John grit his teeth, his expression miserable as he eyes lowered to Moriarty. He tried picturing Sebastian's face. Tried to stare ahead and think of the night before. He didn't want this madman’s face in his mind.

             Jim's dark eyes bored into John's as he pulled John entirely into his mouth, letting John's cock brush the back of his throat as he sucked, grazing his teeth ever so lightly over John's skin, his tongue feeling out John's veins as he withdrew, then sucked John in again, hard, before finding a rhythm and began bobbing in and out.

            John's breathing was irregular and hitched. He balled his hands into fists behind his back and looked down him, staring but not really looking.

             As Jim sped up, he moved his hand back to John's balls, stroking and tugging at them, his knuckles grazing up against John's prenium. His eyes never strayed from John's, and his free hand slid up and down John's thigh, squeezing at the skin every now and then.

             It wasn't long (thank God) before John could feel his orgasm building. He thought desperately of Sebastian and every good shag he'd ever had, and without warning, let his load shoot into Jim's mouth. He closed his eyes and let his head drop back. He could feel the cuffs digging into his wrists and could feel his blood still oozing out. He idly wondered how much he'd lost as he stared blankly at the ceiling. He'd have to make sure he didn't need stitches.

             Jim sucked up John's cock one last time, catching every last drop, then pulled away. He moved up towards John, mouth still full, then clutched at John's throat with one hand, the other moving to John's jaw, forcing it open. Jim moved in to kiss him, depositing John's semen into his mouth before pulling away and clapping his hand over John's mouth. " _Swallow_ ," he demanded, glaring down at John.

            John gagged, eyes going wide for a moment, sickened, and choked it down. He would throw up later. He felt the urge to do it now, but who was to say Jim wouldn't just make him lick it up again? He choked and it almost came out of his nose, but he managed to swallow it. Another tear slid from the corner of his eye. “Can I go now?' he asked quietly as he looked up at the ceiling, unsure of how much more torture he could take.

             Jim's tongue, still bitter from John's come, snaked up John's face, catching his teardrop. "After you clean yourself up." He pressed a final firm kiss on John's shaky lips before he sprang up from the bed and disappeared, returning with two damp towels. He pushed John onto his side and unlocked his handcuffs, then tossed one of the towels to John. "Clean yourself up," he ordered, then began wiping at the blood on John's ankles. "Hmm, I think we stained the bedsheets, pet. We'll have to do this again sometime. Maybe next time I won't go so easy on you," he grinned wickedly.


	13. Secret

John was using every ounce of willpower not to throw up at Jim’s comment. He attempted to clean himself up with the towel, but he still felt dirty. Once he’d managed to wipe away most of the blood, he glanced at a chair where his clothes had been stacked and folded neatly. He shuddered as he thought of Jim dragging him upstairs, stripping his clothes off his unconscious body, hauling him onto the bed and tying him down.

            Once he was dressed, he turned to Jim and said flatly, “Was there anything else you needed?”

             "So nice of you to offer, pet," Jim said, standing up and straightening his necktie. "Strip the bed of these sheets and toss them in the rubbish on your way out."

             John’s stomach turned at the sight of the sheets, which were smudged and stained with blood—his blood. He was all too happy to yank the sheets off and ball them up until no blood was showing. He dumped them in the corner, then slowly, painfully, made his way down the stairs, not bothering to ask if Jim wanted anything else. He just wanted to go home. He ached all over, inside and out. Walking was a misery.

            He hailed a cab back to the flat. Sherlock wasn’t home, a rare stroke of luck for how the day was going, so John silently limped up to his room, and turned on the shower. As the water heated, he kneeled over the toilet and shoved a finger down his throat, forcing himself to vomit. He felt only slight relief once his stomach was emptied, and he stepped into the hot shower and scrubbed himself viciously, trying without success to wash all the filth away, rinsing out his mouth as well.

            His wrists and ankles stung, though it didn’t look like he needed stitches, only some clean bandages. Once he’d dried off and patched himself up, he pulled on his pyjamas and curled up into his bed, making himself as small as possible. He wanted to cry, but his eyes were dried up, incapable of crying anymore.

            John's phone had several texts in it, five from Sebastian and one from Sherlock.

 

 _John, call me when you can. Where did you go? -SM._  

 

The other texts were variations of that, the tone of annoyance becoming more apparent as they went on. The one from Sherlock just read,

 

_John, when you get home, write down "asbestos" on the grocery list. –SH_

 

            John ignored the one from Sherlock and focused on the ones from Sebastian. He seemed angry and John couldn't blame him, which made him feel worse.

 

_Sorry I ran off. -JW_

 

_When can I see you again? -SM_

_I don't know. -JW_

 

            Sebastian would notice the cuts on his wrists had more than doubled and dug even deeper, and John had a horrible bruise across his neck from when Jim had strangled him.

 

_John, what's wrong? -SM_

_Nothing. I'm fine. -JW_

_Yeah, call me when you're ready to tell the truth. I'll be here whenever you need me to be. -SM_

 

            John didn't know what to say in response to that. Telling the truth...well he _couldn't_ , obviously. It would mean someone's death. He finally typed,

 

_I'm just feeling under the weather. -JW_

 

            It wasn't strictly speaking a lie...it just wasn't the truth, either.

             Sebastian sighed and put away his phone. He wanted to help John, but John was obviously too scared or too embarrassed or too _something_ to say something. He packed up from the hotel room and headed back to Jim's flat. He needed to pick up some more ammo for the day's assignment, and odds were good that Jim would have a list of orders for him. Work would distract him from John for a while, at least, although anymore it was getting harder and harder to keep his mind off the man.

             John stayed in his room for the rest of the day. At one point, Sherlock came home and came up to knock on his door to announce that he had a case. John turned him down, not bothering to open it up and curled tighter in on himself. Sherlock obviously knew something was up, but John distracted him by reminding him to write down asbestos. John called in at the clinic sick for the next two days, rarely leaving his bed, and only when he had heard Sherlock leave. He was in constant fear that Jim would text him or Sebastian would show up to his flat unannounced.

             Sebastian returned to Jim's and found Jim in oddly high spirits. "What's so damn amusing, boss? Did you kill that ex-Bee Gee you hate some much?" he smirked, extinguishing his cigarette so as not to kill Jim's high spirits.

             “Mm, no, darling, just had a good shag is all. Isn't it surprising how a little bit of the beast with two backs can turn your mood around?” Jim smirked. “Though I'm sure you know that feeling rather well, don't you? I image you're boyfriend is _quite_ that charmer in bed.”

             Sebastian raised his eyebrows. Jim rarely had sex, and even more rarely with people other than Sebastian. He supposed, however, that he hadn't been around as often, and he respected the fact that Jim hadn't ordered him to bed in some time. If he demanded it of him, however, he wouldn't be able to refuse without something horrible happening to him. Sebastian's stomach twisted at the mere thought of having to betray John against his will. He forced a smile and answered Jim's question. "Yeah, he's quite good in bed," he said. "Worth keeping, that man of mine."

             Jim sighed and quirked an eyebrow. “I'll bet, kitten.” He shoved a pocket square into his suit. “I've got directions for your next target on my desk—I'm going to a meeting. Take care of it by nine o'clock. Ta, ta, lover-boy!” With that, Jim practically floated out the door.

 

             Sebastian frowned, but followed the instructions. He shot another text to John, just to say hi and let John know that he was still thinking about him, that he was still here.

             John looked down at the text, but didn't respond. He was too busy boring a hole in the wall with his eyes and fighting the urge to get back in the shower and scrub himself down with military precision for the third time.

             John heard the door open downstairs and footsteps come inside. Sherlock was back. John hoped he would just leave him be. He didn't want to talk to him again.

             "John?" Sherlock called. When John didn't answer, Sherlock decided he didn't want to be bothered, and set to work on his latest experiment. Several more days passed where John managed to keep his healing wrists from Sherlock's sight and avoided Sebastian in general. Finally, he got a text from Jim.

 

_Hi sunshine. Daddy needs a treat._

_What do you want. -JW_

_Company. Get over here with two servings of Indian food--preferrably paneer--in thirty minutes. Wear something sexy or I will find something sexy for you, and odds are you won't prefer it._

 

             John didn't respond to the text. He just mechanically climbed from his bed, and went to his wardrobe. He didn't really _have_ anything sexy. He grabbed a suit—that was the best he could manage. He pulled it on, then went downstairs. He paused briefly when Sherlock looked up at him, frowning a bit at seeing him fro the first time in days and noticing the fading purple bruise on his neck, before John hurriedly left. He went and ordered the Indian food and showed up at Jim's 35 minutes later.

             Jim let him in and strolled to the dining room, expecting John to follow. "You're late, pet," he drawled. The house was dark except for the dining room. He circled the table, dragging his fingers over the polished wood, then cracked his neck as he surveyed John. "Is that really the best thing you could find to wear? I have got to keep my subordinates in better clothes," he sighed. "Sit down. I'll get forks."

             John dropped into the seat without saying anything and pushed one of the boxes over to the seat across from him as he waited for Jim to return. He hoped this wasn't going to drag on long. He wanted to get back to the warm comfort of his bed.

            "You look thin, honey," Jim said. "Maybe I went a bit too hard on you last time, hmm?" He glanced at John's wrists, then dug into his paneer. "Has Sherlock asked about the marks on your wrists yet? Or your throat?"

             “I've only just seen him,” John said emotionlessly. He looked down at his food, but didn't eat. He wasn't hungry. His eating habits over the past four days had turned hauntingly similar to Sherlock's.

             Jim took a few more mouthfuls of paneer, then looked up at John. "Eat," he commanded. "I hate eating by myself. The whole reason I brought you over was so I could eat with someone else. Seb's out on a job or he'd join me."

             John started to mechanically shove food into his mouth, but did nothing more, eating slowly.

            “Do you work tomorrow?" Jim asked.

             “Yes.”

             "What time?"

             “Eight.”

             "I'm up by then. You'll sleep here tonight. With me."

             John swallowed and looked up at him. After a moment, “I can't. I've left my clothes at home.”

             Jim snorted derisively. "As if _that's_ an excuse. Ohhhh, Johnny, Johnny, Johnny...I have wardrobes of clothes and we're about the same size. I might be a bit narrower in the shoulders, but we'll find something suitable." He glared up at him. "I'm not taking no for an answer." His hard voice softened to something more playful. "Besides, Johnny, it's cold outside tonight, and I'll need a warm body near me. Preferably one that's not squirming around or trying to kill me. Or snoring. Avoid those, otherwise your night will be quite unpleasant. Understood?”

            John flexed his jaw, his mouth tasting bitter. “Understood,” he muttered, looking away, even less hungry than he'd been a moment ago.

             "Good." Jim left him to his silence as he polished off his dinner. "Mmm, _yum_." He stood up and circled around behind John, running a hand through John's hair, quite gently, almost massaging it. "You know, John, you could come to like me, if you tried. I had to be rough with you last time because you were being so very naughty, but if you fly right, I can be quite sweet..."

             John closed his eyes, not out of relaxation, but out of disgust at the mere notion. “Just because I have to do what you say doesn't mean I'm going to enjoy it,” he said, flatly, Jim's cold hands sending a shiver down his spine.

            "I know that, Johnny. All too well." Jim walked past him, letting his fingers trail over John's shoulder. "So, pet. How did you and Sebastian meet? I'm dying of curiosity."

             “The Internet,” John said flatly. If Jim wanted details about the pair of them, he was going to have to draw out every single word.

             "The _Internet_? Ohhh my God, Sebby the Tiger was on a _dating site_? Is that how you met? A dating site?"

             “Yes,” he replied stiffly, also noting that Jim had called Sebastian "Tiger"—a name Sebastian had said was safe from Jim’s use. Apparently there wasn’t a thing he could have to himself that Jim hadn’t already laid his hands on.

             "I don't know what's better...that _you_ , John Watson the bachelor, John Watson the ladies’ man, were on there, or that _Sebastian_ was! Usually he doesn't have to plumb the depths of the Internet to find someone willing to be his fuck toy. You know his usual method, right? It used to be every weekend, go to a club, pick up a guy—or two. He must've had nearly a hundred by this point. God, I hope he uses protection. Otherwise who _knows_ how many diseases you have by now?" Jim sank back across from John, watching him with relish.

            John didn't say anything. He clenched his jaw and took another bite of food to use as an excuse for not talking. Was Jim telling the truth? John realized he didn’t know _anything_ about Sebastian's previous sex life.

             Jim smirked. John was obviously flustered, and it was delicious. "Oh, you mean, Seb never told you? You thought you were....special? Honestly, I think the only reason he hasn't dropped you yet is because you've got the allure of the forbidden fruit about you. He'll tire of you in a few weeks, I imagine."

             John didn't look up as he mechanically took another bite of food. Maybe _Jim_ would get sick of him too...that way he could go back to Sebastian and everything would be fine. It was a weak hope, but John couldn’t help clutching to it all the same.

             "When you're done eating, wash up and join me upstairs. I'm tired. Don't bother trying to leave or looking for a weapon, or Sebby Darling's head will be delivered by Royal Post to Baker Street before tomorrow is out." Jim scanned the area boredly, then went upstairs.

             Once Jim had disappeared, John pressed his hands to his face. This was a nightmare. This was _worse_ than his worse nightmare. After a few minutes alone to collect himself, he headed up to join Jim, who was sitting on the bed, legs crossed, still in his suit.

            He looked up as John came in, then held out his feet, a signal for John to untie and remove his shoes. "Now, we can do this the hard way or the easy way tonight, John." He stared warningly into John's eyes, but his voice was soft. John flexed his jaw and started removing Jim’s shoes. It was demeaning and embarrassing and John

was having pleasant, vivid fantasies about punching Jim Moriarty square in the face.

             "My only desire tonight is to have someone next to me." He licked his lips. "But if you make things hard, I won't waste a moment's thought about raping you. You're nothing but a body to me, and I can find all sorts of uses for it, Johnny. Either way, you're going to be tied up tonight. For safekeeping."

             John dropped Jim’s shoes and shot daggers at him with his eyes for a long moment.              

            Jim slid off the bed to stand in front of John. “Take off my clothes.” He looked down at John’s healing wrists as John began unbuttoning Jim’s jacket. “I think I’ll avoid the sharpened handcuffs tonight…if you behave yourself, of course.”

            That was a small mercy, at least, John though as he slipped off Jim’s jacket and began unbuttoning his shirt.

            “Careful with that,” Jim growled, looking down at the buttons. "Louis Vuitton, you know. Fold that over the chair there—" he nodded to the chair where John's clothes had been last time. "Then come stand in front of me and stay still."

            Once John had obeyed with a small, almost imperceptible huff out of his noise, Jim stepped over to him. "Arms up," he commanded, then raised John's jumper above his head, pulling it off. He thrust John's arms down again and began unbuttoning the shirt underneath. "The first time I got to see you naked, you were unconscious," Jim smirked, pulling open John's shirt and tracing his finger over John's shoulder wound. "I suppose I _could_ tell you what I did while you were out, but maybe it's better left a to the imagination.” He slid his hand down John's chest, which was heaving in rage, pawing through John's dusting of blonde hair, then yanked his shirt off and turned away to change out of his own trousers.

             John grit his teeth, disgusted and horrified. He could never tell what was a joke and what was serious with the man and he loathed it. His mouth was bitter tasting and he knew he wouldn't sleep a wink that night.

             Jim grabbed a couple silk chords from a dresser drawer and bound John's hands in front of him. He bound knotted it securely, but not so tight that it cut off John's circulation, then knotted the ends in a bow. "You look like a present," he smirked. "Get in the bed."

            John scowled at him and climbed into the bed, using his balled fists for support as he maneuvered under the covers. He curled up, his back facing Jim and tugged the covers over his shoulder, not saying anything.

             Jim crawled in after him, pushing the covers down far enough so that he could bind John's ankles as well, then pulled the covers back over them and spooned against John, settling against his warm body, and stroked spider-like fingertips down John's arm. John shivered and resisted the urge to jerk away from the icy touch. He wanted Sebastian. He closed his eyes and imagined Sebastian curled around him, warm, solid, safe. But nowhere to be found. Maybe he should try to see him tomorrow. He would just have to make sure his bruises and cuts were concealed.

            It had been a very long time since Jim had slept next to someone; he usually preferred to sleep alone. Why was he possessive of John? He supposed it was too hard to resist, having and owning something that was at once Sherlock's and Sebastian's. Jim had never been very good at sharing. "Good night, pet," he murmured in his low Irish voice.

             Jim's lips were on John's neck, kissing and sucking at the skin. "You taste so good, darling." He nipped at John's skin lightly. "Why had I never tried you before?"

             John flexed his jaw and curled his fists even tighter. “I _thought_ you wanted to go to sleep.”

             Jim quickly grabbed John's jaw and twisted his neck back toward him, clenching his chin. "Are you contradicting me, Johnny?”

            John jerked his head away. Lay off! _I'm_ not the one who is contradicting you, _you_ are the one who is contradicting you! I was only repeating what you said!” he protested.

             Jim yanked John's face toward him and gave him a bruising, invasive kiss, sucking on John's tongue and biting on his lips. "Careful, sweetie, you turn me on when you get all bothered and sassy," he murmured, reaching down to squeeze John's arse once.

             John gave an annoyed sound but didn't protest, wanting Jim to get everything out of his system so he could try to get some sleep. He had work tomorrow, and work felt like the one escape he had left.

            Jim, however, drew away and didn’t take it any further, just grinned over at John. "G'night, darling. And if you snore, I'll slice off one of your ears. Maybe a finger," he said serenly, settling in to spoon John once again, wrapping an arm around him protectively.

            As much as he hated it, and despite his bound wrists and ankles, the warmth from Jim on his back was rather nice, and John fell asleep fairly quickly.

             Jim slept soundly, enjoying the feeling of the man he was wrapped around. When he woke up, his morning erection pressed against John's back, and he rutted sleepily against John before he had full woken.

             John woke when he felt Jim starting to press up against him and he had to bit his knuckles to prevent himself from doing something stupid that would incur Jim's wrath. He looked at the clock. It was just past six thirty. He had to get ready for work, “Jim? Jim, you need to untie me, I've got to go soon.”

             "Mmm, fine," Jim said, reaching around to John's wrists to untie them. He let John tackle the cords at his feet, then stretched languorously in the bed, feeling more rested than he had in a while. It was then that there was a knock on the door. "Come in," Jim sang, and Sebastian popped in, "Jim, sorry to be early, but I had a question about the name you gave—" He stopped midsentence, gaping as he saw John nestled in bed with his boss.


	14. Split

 John's mouth dropped open in horror and he was frozen on the spot, his hands still holding the cord just above his feet. Finally, he was able to choke out, “S- _Sebastian_ —! I—I know what you think, but this isn’t what it seems!”

             "Oh, it's not, John?" Jim said, laughing, standing up. "Then what exactly _is_ it?" He smiled at Sebastian. "I'll be down in a couple minutes to answer your question. John has to hurry off to work, anyway." He strode to his closet and began picking out clothes to wear.

            Sebastian stood in the doorway still, flabbergasted. "John—" he tried, but that was all he could manage, before he finally closed the door, furious, enraged, and went downstairs to place. John. John with Jim. Either Jim was forcing John to be there, or John _wanted_ to be there. Was that the only reason he'd stayed with Sebastian in the first place? Because he had a thing for the baddies, the dangerous ones? How he felt about John went so cosmically beyond that, and the idea that John's interest was so casual was like a twisted knife.

             John was frozen for about another minute, horrified, before he sprung into action, grabbing the clothes from Jim that he grabbed for him. “What the hell was that?! Why did you tell him to come in? Why didn't you tell him what's going on??” John frantically started tugging on the clothes, needing to talk to him.

             "Oooh, Johnny, had you forgotten our agreement? Sebastian can't know that you're being forced into this. Or he dies," Jim said, barely containing a gleeful grin. "Now hurry up. You'll be late. I ordered the housekeeper to make some breakfast for you that you can take on the go. It'll be in the counter. Smooches."

             John's heart sank. He couldn't even be allowed to explain it _now_? He felt like he was in a freefall and couldn't properly breathe. What was he going to do? His hands twitched to fists for a moment before he headed out of the room and hurried downstairs to find the other. “Sebastian—?”

             Sebastian's face was red. He whirled on John and fought back every urge to punch him into next week. "So is that your kink, then, is it? You like the 'villains'? You like the adrenaline rush, huh? John—why the hell—I mean, Jim—" He suddenly felt a lot more sad and hurt and enraged now. "You should just go. Get the fuck out of here." God, he'd told John that he _loved_ him! And he did, but how embarrassing!

             “No, Sebastian, you don't understand, it's nothing like that. I...I _love_ you, Sebastian,' John blurted, unsure of what he could possibly say to sway the other's mind without actually telling him what was happening.

             Sebastian looked at John. He could spot liars—he made a career out of it—and he knew John was telling the truth. "God, he's forcing you," Sebastian said, looking up the stairs. "He's forcing you not to tell me." It was such a Jim thing to do. "Why _you_?" He closed the gap between him and John in a few steps. "Tell me it's true, that he's forcing you. I mean, you're not _willingly_...you can't be..."

             John opened his mouth and didn't know what to say. What if Jim was listening? If Sebastian came to the conclusion on his own, would Jim still kill him? Was saying yes right now _technically_ telling him anything?? John didn't know what to say, but he didn't want to say nothing and give Sebastian the impression that he _was_ doing it willingly.

             "John—" Sebastian's voice was almost pleading. "God, tell me you're not... _attracted_ to him. Please."

             John gave a pleading look in response. “Sebastian, I...' John looked away and pressed a hand over his mouth. “I have to go,” he whispered, feeling sick. Maybe it would just be better this way, if Sebastian thought he liked Jim. It would put him out of danger, wouldn't it? John turned and hurried out the door without looking back.

             Sebastian stood, staring at the closed door, frozen, then snapped to motion and bounded up the stairs two at a time to Jim's room. "Jim! What the _fuck_ is going on?!" He demanded.

             Jim blinked at him innocently as he tied his tie. “I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about, Sebby, darling. I told you'd I'd be down in a moment, now run along.”

             Sebastian snarled and yanked Jim over by his tie, twisting it. "Why _him_? Are you jealous that I have someone? Is it to get at Sherlock?! There are better ways, you know! Let me have _someone_ for myself, you piece of shit!" He never spoke to Jim that way, but he was so enraged that he wasn't thinking.

             Jim snarled and backhanded Sebastian across the face. “What I do is none of your business,” he hissed. A slow smirk spread across his face. “Although, I suppose you do have a point because _who_ I do, apparently is. Quite a good little shag isn't he, the good doctor? Nice and tight—bet you like that, don't you, Seb?' Jim's smirk only widened as he straightened out his shirt.

             Sebastian's face stung, and he lunged at Jim, tackling him to the floor. "I will kill you, I swear to _GOD_ I will kill you— _fucking leave him alone_!" He was about ready to black out, he was so mad. He could choke Jim to death right now. The thought of Jim seizing and taking John was too much.

             Jim erupted into giggles. “Oh, Sebby, dear, you're so cute when you're possessive.” He arched his neck and bit down hard on Sebastian's lower lip and drew it out viciously, drawing blood and making Sebastian groan. Suddenly, Jim's knife was drawn from his suit pocket and pressed against the artery in Sebastian's neck. “Ooooh, Seb,” he breathed, his eyes dark and cold as Sebastian shook in rage above him.  “ _You're_ mine, _he’s_ mine...and I hardly think you can be angry for John and I fucking as that would make _you_ quite the hypocrite...wouldn't it?”

             He couldn't say anything to that. He had been Jim’s sexual plaything ever since he’d been in his employ, and the worst of it was, he didn’t hate it half the time. If he told Jim the truth, that he loved John, then Jim would use it against him. "Please, Jim—please leave him alone. I'll do anything you want me to. Anything. Please," he begged. "I'll be yours—but please leave John alone."

            “A _dooor_ able, Sebby, but you already are mine. Besides, Johnny's far too much fun for only one,” he said, his soulless eyes black. “Now get off, or I'll slit your throat,” he said casually.

             Sebastian got off, his heart constricting. "Jim," he said. "I won't let this happen. Please. I will do anything. When have I ever begged for anything in my life? Let. John. Go. What could he possibly mean to you?"

             Jim's eyes narrowed at him as he stood and brushed his shirt off. “I could ask you the same thing. What does he mean to you? Clearly more than you're letting on.”

             Sebastian's heart pounded. "He means a lot to me, as you've obviously noticed," he said tersely, then finally mumbled out, "I love him." He knew it was a mistake, but Jim would realize it anyway. And it felt good admitting it out loud.

             Jim's eyes went wide for a moment before another slow smirk spread across his face. “Ooooh, Sebby...Sebby, Sebby, Sebby, what _have_ you gone and done?”

             Sebastian grit his teeth. "Jim. When have I ever asked you for anything? How many times have I saved your life? How many times have—for fuck's sake—how many times have I blown you?"

            Jim's devilish grin was so wide it nearly split his face in two. “It doesn't matter, darling. The real question is: How many times have I told _you_ not to let sentiment get involved? That’s lesson ONE! Oh dear, but we _are_ in a mess, aren't we?'

             "We wouldn't _have_ to be, and you know it," Sebastian said. He weighed his options. He could try to kill Jim. But could he? Could he bring himself to do it? He'd been so close to doing it just a few minutes ago, but that had been in a fit of rage. And he was still enraged with this man. "Just answer me one thing. Why? Why him?"

             Jim shook his head lightly and clicked his tongue disapprovingly. He slowly took a step forward to press up against Sebastian and titled his head up to the other's ear and whispered lightly, “Because he _wanted_ it, that's why.” Jim turned his head just a bit and pressed a soft kiss just under Sebastian's ear before he pulled back.

            Sebastian’s skin crawled as Jim’s lips brushed his skin, and he stared at him in disbelief and loathing as Jim pulled back, raising an eyebrow to make an expression that was at once threatening and amused. He strode past Sebastian and out his bedroom door, grabbing his suit coat as he passed by.

            It couldn’t be true, Sebastian thought. It couldn’t be. Jim was lying. John would never. He heard Jim walk down the stairs and step out the door, then he grabbed his phone and texted John.

_We need to talk. When are you off work? –SM_

_Two. -JW_

_I'll meet you at the cafe across from the clinic then. -SM_

 

            Sebastian drummed his fingers on the cafe table, arriving twenty minutes before John was off. He wondered if he would be able to bear it if John said he was attracted to Jim. He wondered if he could bear it. Jim would never let him leave, but Sebastian might very well try.

             John didn't want to have this talk. He had been distracted and off his game the whole day, which was why he was off so early. It was his first day back since his "mugging" and Sarah asked if he was ready to come back yet, noticing his subpar work. He'd replied honestly that he really wasn't and since it was a slow day, she'd said he could leave after his last appointment at one thirty. So, taking a deep breath, John walked into the cafe and dropped down across from Sebastian. “Hello.”

            Sebastian’s eyes flicked to John, then into the depths of his coffee cup, unable to meet John's eyes again. Being around John even now was electric. It had been days since he'd properly seen or touched him, and it was driving him mad. He felt a twisting pit in his stomach. "So, is that where you've been these past few days? With Jim?"

            “Not the whole time,” John said softly, averting his eyes. He'd been trying to heal up his wounds after Jim had raped him earlier that week.

             Sebastian looked up at John and saw the faint traces of the marks on his wrists. It was all coming together now. "John, the marks on your wrist—that night at the hotel—" Sebastian reached across the table and gently took John's hand. "It was Jim, wasn't it? He did something to you."

             John flexed his jaw and tugged his hand away, not wanting to see any of the deeper cuts, and tugged down his sleeves.

            Sebastian's empty hand rested on the table. "Do you—I mean, are you _attracted_ to him?" He found the question so difficult to spit from his mouth.

             John swallowed. If he said "no", then it might be counted as telling Sebastian, and he had no way of knowing if Sebastian had been bugged. _He_ could be bugged, for all he knew. John didn’t put it past Jim to get away with such a thing.

            If he said “yes,” though, he would ruin any future chance he had with Sebastian. Either way, he would lose him. He preferred to keep Sebastian alive. With a heavy heart and a lump in his throat, John said, barely above a whisper, “Yes.”

             Sebastian felt as if his heart had been slammed with a hammer. He stared at his coffee. "Oh—" he said blankly after a moment. What did one say when one's heart shattered? He sat dumbly for a moment, then he felt himself growing hot. "So...was I not _rough_ enough for you? Is that how you like your men? Sadistic?" He stood up. "Sorry I didn't fulfill that for you!"

             It took everything John had not to burst into tears. He could practically hear Sebastian's heart breaking. He wanted to accuse Sebastian of sleeping with Jim too, of saying this wasn't all his fault, of saying Sebastian had lied to him, or at least hadn't told the entire truth, but what was the point? There wasn't one.

            John sat silently hunched in his chair, feeling as if Jim Moriarty had an invisible iron fist that was squeezing his heart to pulp. John couldn't even speak. He wouldn’t deny anything Sebastian had just accused him of. It would be less complicated if he just let Sebastian draw his own conclusions, however false they were. For Sebastian’s own safety. ”I'm sorry,” John finally said, his voice strained and barely audible.

             Sebastian stared at him, torn between punching John and falling to his knees and begging John to reconsider his choice. He forced himself to stand up instead. "Goodbye, John," he spat, and stormed out, leaving John alone at the table.


	15. The Dangerous Type

Sebastian’s mind was a whirl of raging thoughts as he left the café.  He would find someone else. Someone better. How could he have fallen in love with Sherlock Holmes's friend in the first place? It must have been a fluke, a trick. Either that or he’d been out of his mind. A few rounds of scotch and an easy slut or two and he'd be back to his old self.

            He wondered if two pm was too early to start drinking. He couldn't go back and face Jim, so he went and checked out a hotel room, fully intending to have a man in it by tonight. He'd fuck his problems away, and John wouldn't even care. And hopefully neither would Sebastian by tomorrow.

             John’s mind felt numb. He sat where he was for another minute or two before he silently pushed the chair back. It scraped across the floor, and John fixed his eyes on the floor tiles as he silently walked out. Once back at the empty flat, he traveled slowly to his bedroom, changing into pyjamas before slipping into the covers and curling into the position he'd been returning to for the past several days now. He felt hollow and empty, and for what seemed like the countless time that week, John Watson, army captain and doctor, cried.

 

            The next day, John received a text.

 

_So. How'd things go with Sebby? –JM_

_I imagine they went exactly how you wanted them to. -JW_

_Want to get your mind off things? I'm free this evening, and I have a massive collection of booze. Think it over. What does Sherlock have to offer you? Who else do you have left that cares in any way about your well-being? xxx –JM_

_Don't act like you give a flying /fuck/ about my "well-being". -JW_

_I'll take that to mean that I'll see you at 8. –JM_

 

             John didn't reply, just growled and threw the phone across the room. At eight o'clock, however, he had dragged himself from his room and was knocking on Jim's door, praying to God Sebastian wasn't around.

             Jim opened the door with a smile. The lights were low in the house and there was a fire in the grate. Jim had gotten out a few bottles of incredibly nice gin and scotch. "I know you've had a rough day," he said, pulling off John's coat. He could slip into a normal, caring-sounding voice so easily that it was disarming, but his newly caring tone only made John feel uneasy. "Sit down, honey, and I'll get you a drink."

            John was sitting in front of the fireplace to warm himself, staring blankly into the flames when Jim returned with drinks.

             He thrust a glass into John’s hand. "You think what I did was cruel, John, but I only revealed the truth: Sebastian's insecurities about you, his devotion to me...it only took a tiny nudge to expose them. I was saving you pain later on, believe me. Now drink up.”

             John remained silent. It was _Jim_ who had caused all of this to happen. As John took a large gulp, he wondered about how happy he would be right now if Jim Moriarty never came into existence. No worrying about his friends or family getting killed, no worrying about getting forced into sex again, no worrying about lying to Sebastian. _Fuck it_. John downed the entire glass, making his throat burn and insides tingle.

             "That's a good boy," Jim said, stroking John's back. "Feels better, doesn't it? Numbs the pain." His voice went dark. "Life is nothing but suffering, John, and the sooner you embrace that, the wiser you'll be. Love does not win, and sometimes the dark is the only place you can turn to when everyone else has abandoned you." He gently turned John's face toward him, then stroked down John's cheek slowly.

            John continued to stare blankly into the fire, suddenly asking out of the blue, “Why Carl Powers? What did he do that made you want to kill him?”

             Jim regarded him with surprised interest for a moment. "He bullied me to no end," he said blandly. "I was ostracized because of him. Believe me, nobody mourned when he died. Nobody in our year, that is.”

             “He poked fun at you and that warranted taking his _life_?” John asked, still not turning to look at him.

             "It was more than poking fun!" Jim said suddenly, punching the couch in a sudden show if rage and malice that made John flinch. "He _beat_ me. Hit me so hard on the nose that I almost had brain damage. _Nobody_ tries to take away my _brain_ from me. I dream of killing him still. I could kill him in a thousand ways and not get sick of it," he sighed, closing his eyes. "Killing's such an easy thing to do, John, and there are _so_ many ways to get creative about it. It's the getting away with it part that is so very very difficult for ordinary people, though." He took a drink of gin, twirling his glass thoughtfully. "If you tried to kill me, for instance, all it would take would be a flick of a knife, a choke hold, a drop of poison. Even _I_ can't safeguard against everything. But the consequences—would you ever be able to prepare for them? Would they ever be worth the short satisfaction of seeing me dead?"

             John glanced over at him and then back at the fire. He didn't know why Jim's rant hadn't scared him. The fact that he had agreed with and understood most of what Moriarty had said chilled him. He grabbed the bottle that was set between him and filled up the glass as he spoke. “They would. Nothing would make me happier than seeing you dead,” he replied conversationally as he popped the cork back in to the bottle.

             "Then why haven't you done it yet?” Jim asked. "If you're not afraid of the consequences, what on earth is stopping you?" He smiled as John refilled his glass. Good. He couldn't wait to see John drunk.

             “I'm not scared of killing, I've done it countless times. After a while, you grow numb to it. The consequences I'm worried about aren't ones that would affect _me_. They would affect Sebastian and Sherlock. Yes, I would probably be caught and carted off to Pentonville, and as much as living life in a cage wouldn't suit me, there are far worse things in the world.” He took another large gulp. Maybe he should just do it. Jim was right, it wouldn't be that difficult.

             "How do you know I don't have a system set up where Seb or Sherlock would die if I did? How would you know that _you_ wouldn't die?" Jim looked him up and down. He knew John was tough, but this side of him he hadn't seen before. It was exciting. He wondered what it would be like if he gave John the reigns during a shag. As a masochist as well as a sadist, the thought gave Jim shivers. Still, he thought as he refilled his own drink, John would probably just get puppy eyes again and curl up and away from him, unaware of how a good, violent fucking could turn a bad day around, even when it was with someone you hated. Especially when it was with someone you hated.

             “Because you don't. Why would you? You didn't and still probably _don't_ think I'll kill you.” He took a sip and held his hands out to the flames to warm them. “Tell me I'm wrong.” He looked over at him, eyebrows raised expectantly.

             Jim just smiled at him, his dark eyes dancing in the firelight. "Kiss me," he said. "Kiss me and forget everything. I will eat your rage, Johnny. I will suck it out of you..."

            John was horrified by how tempted he was to do it. He just flexed his jaw and looked back to the fire, ignoring him. “I take that as a sign that I was correct.” John swallowed and grabbed the glass to knock back the rest of it.

             "Mmm, aren't you clever for an _orrdinary_ person," Jim drawled, running a finger down John's ear. His phone rang, and he frowned, then answered it. "You want the day off?" He growled into the phone. "Well, you're clearly drunk right now, so what am I supposed to say? ....Fine, Sebastian, take tomorrow off, but you'll have double the work load the next day." He rolled his eyes and hung up, then smirked at John. "Well, Sebastian's off to fuck someone, apparently. He rented out a hotel room, which means he's getting some arse," he said with disinterest.

             John flexed his jaw, but didn't say anything. He felt as if he'd snapped out of whatever weird mood he was in that was partially tempted to do things with Jim—like kiss him when the other had asked. What the hell was he thinking? Jim was the one who was making him miserable. And Sebastian...Sebastian was already moving on. Good. That was good, John told himself.

             "More scotch?" Jim offered up the bottle. "Love hurts, don't it, babe?" he said it flippantly, but there wasn't that usual cruel undertone to it.

             John glanced over at him and grabbed the bottle, silently poured himself another glass, sipping slowly this time. His head was getting foggy as he stared into the mesmerizing flames. “Why are you doing this?”

             "You'll have to be more specific, Johnny."

            “ _All_ of this! I can't be specific because I mean in _general_! Why are you doing this to me? What did I ever do to you?” John asked, turning almost desperately to Jim for answers. He felt like if he knew the exact reason why this was happening, it'd make him feel better, if only slightly.

            Jim considered this for a moment. It was a fair question. Why _was_ he doing all of this? He was a busy man. He didn't usually waste his free time with one other person, even if was to torment him in an entertaining way. It had all started as a way to control Sebastian, he supposed, but why it was continuing, he couldn't say precisely. So he gave John answered that seemed to him the post logical.

            "It hurts me, John, to see someone get so bogged down by sentiment that they make such terrible choices. I don't mean fucking the enemy, _God,_ no, otherwise I'd be guilty of that. I mean, allowing yourself to fall in _love_ with the enemy when the enemy is devoted to everything you despise: murder, crime...me. Sebastian's loyalties will always lie with me, John—" He stroked his fingers along the back of John's neck in soothing motions. "It's sheer stupidity, and I cannot abide by stupidity. I also can't kill you without irking Sherlock, and my plans for him aren't ready yet. He stays out of this until I'm ready. That's how this works."

             John twitched away from Jim’s touch. He’d been wrong—knowing didn't help. Knowing just made things worse. He glared at Jim. “Well, as you clearly know, Sebastian and I aren't together anymore, so why do you _care_ if I do something stupid? Like you said, I'm ‘ordinary’ anyway! And as I'm sure you know, ordinary people do stupid things sometimes. And since I'm _not_ devoted to you, I _don't_ work for you, we aren't even _friends_ , for God’s sake—my life and my mistakes are none of your Goddamned business!”

            “Oooh! Johnny gets a bit mouthy when he’s drunk!” Jim smiled. “Ask yourself, John…would you really be happier if I left you alone? Say I ignore you from here on out. What will you do then, hmm? Go back to Baker Street, be ignored by the detective, take a stab at dating women again and fail miserably? I can give you what you crave the most. I know why you were drawn to Sebastian in the first place," Jim said.

             John scoffed at him. “You have _no idea_ what drew me to Sebastian!”

             "Fear. Danger," Jim said. "Correct me if I'm wrong: the final selling point on whether you wanted to meet him or not was that he was an army vet, like yourself. A _higher ranking_ army vet. That's what did it for you."

             John gave a disbelieving snort. 'That's absolutely ridiculous!' he retorted, but inside he felt less certain. He had liked that they were both vets, sure, and had already considered contacting him, thinking they'd have things in common, but when he’d found out Sebastian was a colonel, he had felt an unexpected surge of excitement.

             Jim smiled as John's face slowly revealed a realization. He smoothly shifted from his seat and straddled John's lap, sinking onto it, and then ran his hands up John's chest, squeezing lightly at his pecs. "You want someone who is above you, John. That's what attracted you to Sherlock, who is intellectually above you. That's what attracted you to Sebastian, who can dominate you in rank and in size. They both give you the fear and the danger that you thrive on. I can give you that, John. The only thing that's stood in the way before now was your fragile, cumbersome _heart_ ," he traced a heart shape over John's chest with his finger, locking his dark eyes with John's, daring him to prove him wrong.

             John’s skin crawled. Jim was telling him things about himself that not even _he_ knew, and it was a bit scary. John pursed his lips as he looked up into Moriarty's deep, dark, soulless eyes. “What's your plan, then? _To burn it out of me_?”

             "Nahh, that's reserved for Sherlock, because he won't realize he has a heart until it's singed away and he's left with a smoking hole in his chest. _Your_ heart is a dripping ruby and anyone can tell. If I tried to burn it, it would just turn to mush. I just need to redirect it and feed it the things it _really_ wants. Not some bony miss to cuddle, or even some warm strong man who you can delude yourself into thinking loves you. I'll feed you on fear and power and the kind of recklessness that will actually get that red velvety muscle pounding with adrenaline. You will feel so...very...alive," Jim said, inching his lips closer and closer to John's.

             John could feel his "red velvety muscle" starting to beat faster as Jim spoke. This was dangerous and he didn't want this, but oh, how he did. He kept his eyes locked on Jim's for a moment before they dropped down to his lips. “...You're sick,” he whispered.

            Jim trailed his lips to John's ear. "I'm _right_."

             John turned his head away, just slightly. His hands tightened on the armrests, his knuckles white. “You're mad.” He could feel Jim's heated, dangerous breath against his skin and it sent chills down his spine.

             Jim turned John's face toward him. "Yes. And I'm right." He caught John's lips with his and pressed against him, a hand moving to John's throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really need to be less mean with these cliffhangers...then again, I update every day, soooo....no I don't.


	16. Willing

John's eyes went wide as he felt Jim's lips and he tried to take in a breath, but Jim's hand had clamped around his windpipe. He wasn't able to pull away as the back of the chair prevent him from doing so, but he wasn't entirely sure he _would_ even if he could.

            Jim let up on John's throat so he could breath, but kept his hand wrapped around it possessively. His lips massaged against John's for a moment before he opened his mouth a bit wider, inviting, not forcing John to do the same. John was frozen up for a moment, his heart stopped in his chest, and then, before he actually knew what he was doing, he was kissing him back.

             Jim's heart skipped with delight as John opened his mouth willingly. Oh good, the pet was finally seeing some sense! He hungrily caught John's lips again, sucking briefly before sliding his tongue into John's mouth and pressing it against John's.

             John's mind was a whirr of excitement, fear, loathing and need. His confusing mix of emotions was too much, and he tried his best to just empty his head as Jim sucked his tongue into his mouth. He trapped it there for a moment with his teeth, then began running circles over it with the tip of his tongue. John moaned around it, enjoying the feel of it despite himself.

            Jim’s erection had filled out completely now, and he ran his hands through John's hair, clawing at the scalp, and then pressed closer in his straddle so that his groin was flush with John's.

             John took in a small, alarmed, and to his annoyance, pleased gasp as he felt Jim pressed against him. His hands were still on the armrests and he gripped them even tighter. He would go where Jim wanted him to, for now, anyway, but John couldn't bring himself to make any moves without the other's insistence, part of him still not wanting to admit to himself that he wanted this.

             Jim pressed kisses into John's neck and throat, beginning to systematically unbutton John's shirt. He licked firmly up John's throat and began sucking and biting on John's ear, his hands finding John's bare, hot skin. He dragged his hands over John's chest and moved to grip John's bare shoulders inside of his shirt.

             As Jim's hands moved over him, John could feel himself starting to get hard as well. His breath started to come quicker as his pulse raced and his eyes dilated. And then, his hands were on Jim's hips and he was tilting his head back, closing his eyes.

             He seized John's mouth in his again, his breath quickening against John's mouth, and he began ripping the shirt off John's shoulders until it was pooling around John's wrists. His hands now moved to John's belt, making quick work of unbuckling it and whipping it out from his trouser loops. He wrapped it behind John's shoulders and pulled on the ends to force John forward against him as he plunged hungrily into John's mouth.

             John let Jim lead as something in the back of his mind yelled at him to stop, but it was a losing battle. John's hands moved up to find Jim's shirt buttons and start undoing them after he loosened the other's silk tie.

            Jim tore himself away from John and craned his neck back as John began undoing his clothes, and he gave a soft moan at even those casual touches of John's. He one-handedly unbuttoned and unzipped John's trousers, sliding a hand down to feel at John's erection. He slipped his hand down the waistband of John's pants to grasp the skin, beginning to squeeze and fondle him, fingers trailing down his cock to his balls and prenium, stroking John in a teasing way.

             John faltered for a moment, a soft moan escaping his lips and with that, he shut off his brain and let his body take control. This could be anyone. It could be Jim or it could be Cindy Dawlins from 6th Form. He pressed his hips upwards into Jim's hands and pulled Jim's shirt off the rest of the way until it hung loosely at his elbows, but he left the tie.

             Jim's breathing sped up, as did his hand, which had taken a firmer hold around John's cock.

             John groaned and started on removing Jim's trousers, which moved difficult, seeing as he was sitting in John's lap still.

             Jim had baited him this far, he was pleased to see. As an experiment, he suddenly stopped, withdrew his hand from John's trousers, his lips from John's neck, then looked down at John, his eyes blown wide with lust, and raised an eyebrow, waiting to see how John would react.

             “Wha—what are you doing? Why did you stop?” John demanded.

             "Careful, John, you sound almost _frantic_ ," Jim said. "Why? Did you want me to keep going?" he teased.

             John was snapped back to reality all of a sudden, he growled and pushed Jim off, standing. “No. Was there anything else you needed or am I free to go?” he said flatly, buttoning his shirt back up.

             "John, you're drunk," Jim laughed, standing up and staring at John's still-unzipped fly. "And don't bother trying to deny that you enjoyed that. You didn't want to, but you _did_. And isn't that the appeal? The danger?"

             “I take that as a no.” John zipped up and buttoned his trousers. His jolt back to reality had done a thorough job of deflating his erection, thankfully. He snatched up his belt and headed towards the door. He _was_ drunk, but not to the point where he couldn't easily make his way home.

            Jim strode over to the door, blocking it. "And you didn't deny what I said." He grabbed a fistful of John's hair and kissed him again, forcefully, his free hand trailing down John's back to clench at one of his bum cheeks.

             John resisted the urge to melt against him and pushed him away. “Keep your hands _OFF_ of me!” he growled, looping his belt back into his trousers.

             Jim hadn't failed to notice that John had pressed into the kiss for a flicker of a moment before pulling away. "What are you going to do about it if I don't, hmm, Johnny?" Jim said, hooking his fingers into John's trousers, letting his hands graze against John's bare hips as he pulled him close. He leaned in and kissed John again, more forcefully this time. "Get upstairs," he ordered as he yanked his head away, eyes dark.

             John glared at him. It was an order, one he knew that if he didn't obey, Jim would carry though with his threats on. He grit his teeth for a moment as he turned to go climb the stairs, anger and excitement simmering inside of him.

             Jim smiled and followed John up the stairs, shutting his bedroom door behind him. "That's better, much, much better," he purred, closing the gap between him and John with a few steps, and ran his tongue up the side of John's neck, gripping his biceps. John's shirt was still unbuttoned, so he lazily slid it down John's arms and let it fall from his wrists to the floor, then wrapped his hands around to splay across John's back, pulling him close until their chests were pressing together. He kissed down John's neck and bit between his shoulder and his neck, keeping John close.

             John stood stiffly as Jim touched him. He didn't want Jim thinking he enjoyed this, even if some sick, twisted part of him did, because that would mean Jim had won.

             Jim noticed with annoyance John's stubborn stiffness, but he could feel John's erection coming back. He moved his hands to press into John's bum, and his lips danced across John's chest to his nipples, which he licked circles around, sucked, and then playfully bit at.

             John took in a little, sharp gasp as Jim bit at his nipples, but remained still as possible, his erection a giveaway of the feelings he was trying so desperately to hide.

             Jim pulled up in annoyance. "What the fuck is the point of this, John? Making yourself miserable? Is it a matter of pride? You're _ashamed_ of being with me?” He ran a finger thoughtfully down John’s chest, noting his hardened nipples. “Or perhaps it’s because I raped you. People have _such_ a hard time letting things like that go…”

            John’s stomach turned. He felt sick.

            “Or is it because you can't stand that I read you like a book and told you your darkest thoughts and wishes? I would take this opportunity if I were you. Forget it all. Those pieces you're holding on to...they're only holding you back." He began kissing down John's shoulder, scraping his teeth and sucking at the skin as his lips moved down John bicep. His tongue plunged into the crook of John's elbow, and he grabbed John's wrist as he kissed down the underside of John's forearm to the palms of his hands.

             It was all of that. All of that and more. John watched Jim kiss down his arm, not wanting to admit that it felt rather good. “What is the point of this, _indeed_? You want sex, and you've proven you’re more than willing to use force to get it. Why do I need to be consensual? Clearly it doesn't make a difference to you.”

            "Oh, but it does, John. It does now. I've already taken it from you. Always fun the first time, always boring the second time. The pained screams, the pleading, the looks of panic—you've seen it once, you've seen it a hundred times. And forcing someone to _enjoy_ themselves, I've seen that with you too. Now _that_ was interesting, and much more fun. Watching you completely unravel as you tried desperately to cling to any last shred of dignity you could. Trying soooo hard not to love it. It was delicious."

            He unbuckled John's belt once more, then, as he slid it out of John's trouser loops, he circled John, letting the belt fall like a limp snake into his hands. "What I _haven't_ seen, and what I will see, given enough time, is you turning to putty in my hands. I will see you beg for it. Tonight? Probably not. Someday? Yes. And maybe, one day, I'll see you work up the courage and the desire to initiate. Although that, I'm sure, will be a long time coming. You've never taken out your anger on someone through sex, have you, John? I'm sure psychologists would call it very unhealthy for the relationship, blah blah blah, but healthy relationships are so very _boring_!" He stepped away from John. "So. I'm a patient man. You can leave if you care to. But if you do, you'll have to ask yourself why. Is it really because you're disgusted with me, or are you just too ashamed to admit how you actually feel?"

             Jim raised an eyebrow and John didn't move. John was clearly wrestling several things over in his mind, and Jim waited for the cogs in the doctor's brain to work. He wasn't stupid as far as normal people go, but honestly, normal peoples' brains moved at such a glacial speed at the best of times. "I tell you what, John. If you stay, I'll call off the terms of our agreement for the night. That is, you won't be bound to follow my orders, except of course for the order that Sherlock and Sebastian do not get to learn about our little deal. Other than that, if I order you to do something and you don't want to, you can leave." He raised an eyebrow. "How's that for a compromise? I'll even let you set the terms. John Watson, King of the Bedroom. Just for one night. Or you can leave.”

            John flexed his jaw. Now he couldn't even use Jim's deal as an excuse for staying. It was all down to him. He didn't know what to do and thought of Sebastian. Sebastian, who, according to Jim was out fucking someone already. And the thought suddenly infuriated him. Clearly, he really hadn't ever meant anything to Sebastian if that was all it took. Not even a day to feel bad or get over it, just go out and get a one-night stand right off the bat. John grit his teeth. And did Sebastian really have so little faith in him that he thought John actually _wanted_ to be with Jim? It hurt to think that Sebastian thought John was so shallow. Or maybe John really _was_ just a "fuck toy" for Sebastian. His eyes turned to Jim and he said stiffly, “I'll stay.”

             "All right, then," Jim said, biting down a grin. He could see hate in John's eyes now, and that was fine. "Tonight is just going to be about enjoying ourselves. Forget the past, John. Don't think about the future. You're the boss tonight—and that's the only, _only_ time you'll ever hear those words from me. So. What do you want to do?" He raised his eyebrow, twirling John's belt in his hand, and let his eyes slide up John's body. It was a nice body—he loved it all the more because it wasn't vainly groomed or toned—it was just a healthy body with a large bullet wound in the shoulder, and the man who it belonged to it was broken, conflicted, and maybe just a bit unpredictable. Maybe he'd snap and kill Jim after all. Not knowing just made it all the more enjoyable.

               John paused to think for a moment before he said, “No—don't ask what I want to do, do what you want to do. I don't want to think about taking part in this more than I have to. I'll do it, I'll be an active participant, but I don't want you for one second to think that I am doing this because it's _you_.” No. If Sebastian was going to run off to shag someone, then John was too, and since Jim was here and ready, it might as well be him.

             Jim raised an eyebrow. "Fair enough," he said, then gripped John's shoulders, directed him backwards, and shoved him onto the bed. Jim kicked off his shoes and climbed up between John's legs, seizing them one at a time so he could rip off John's shoes and socks. John clearly still loved Sebastian. _Why_? Jim couldn't understand it. Yet people continued to love people even after they’d been denied, cheated, insulted, abused, all the time. It fascinated Jim. He grinned down at John before he buried his face in John's groin, his hands gripping the backs of John's knees, mouthing and biting over John's groin as he felt it harden once more.

            John gasped in surprise and hardened up almost immediately again as the other nipped at him through his trousers. He glanced down at Jim, then dropped his head back onto the bed. This wasn't Jim. This was nobody. This was just a random shag—someone he'd picked up at a bar. And just like that, things began to get easier. John's hands slid down to thread through Jim's dark hair.

             Jim wasn't going to hurt John tonight, he decided as he raised his head and ordered John to raise his hips so that he could slide John's trousers and pants down his legs to free his erection. He wasn't going to torture John, although there would be so many words he could say that would stab, and so many ways he could make John's body squirm in pain, lying here, near-naked and vulnerable and far weaker than he probably realized, but tonight he would give John what he wanted: sex. A distraction from Sebastian. And he'd finally see what the big deal with vanilla sex was all about anyway. He'd never bothered trying to have normal sex before. It sounded like a big yawn. But he was fairly tipsy and could perhaps find it interesting. He lowered his mouth to kiss inside John's thighs, his hands gripping their outsides, then kissed up to the very edge of John's groin, tonguing the sensitive skin there.

             John arched his back and spread his legs farther apart for Jim. He kept frequenting the thought that this was just a random person and the more he did, the more he relaxed. “Nnngh...”

             Jim moved his hands to cup John's arse, then licked up the side of John's cock, then down the other side. He made this same teasing motion again until he finally drew his teeth lightly over the head, tongue teasing at the slit, his hands massaging and groping at John's bum.

             “God...” John breathed. His pupils had dilated again, his pulse was racing and he just wanted sex.

             Jim smiled to himself as he reached a hand up to squeeze and palm John's balls, then seized a fistful of pubic hair and held onto it painfully as he finally took John into his mouth, sucking and moving his tongue purposefully and firmly against the skin, tracing over the veins as he began to move in and out, pulling John a little bit deeper each time.

             John groaned, wincing as Jim grabbed his pubic hair, but immediately began to thrust upwards into the other man's mouth. “Ffffuck...yes—“

             Jim growled around John's cock and pinned his hips down with his hands, stroking at John's hip bones as he pulled John deeper and deeper with each bob in and out until his lips were planted around the base and John's cock was nudging the back of his throat, then he began pulling in and out much faster, his tongue sliding along the cock’s underside as he sucked, moving one of his hands back over to twist and pump at the base where his mouth could no longer reach. His tongue was everywhere, playing with every inch of it, as he bobbed in and out.

             John let out a string of moans and whimpers of pleasure as Jim sucked him off. After a while, John choked out, “St-stop—! I'm close—“

             Jim pulled him out with a wet noise. "Well, yes, John, that's the point," he said, dryly. "Or did you not _want_ an orgasm?" He smirked up at John, who was panting and red-faced.

             “I want _sex_ , Jim—I want to be fucked, I don't give two shits if you're good at giving head or not— _fuck_ me!” he growled in annoyance.

             Jim moved up in surprise. _This,_ he hadn't expected. Bonus for him. He bit John's bottom lip. "Better flip over, then," He said through his teeth, then released John's lips and raised his hips so John could flip over. He leaned over to his bedroom dresser and pulled out some lube, preparing himself quickly.

             John flipped over onto his stomach, rather happy that Jim had wanted him to flip over because it meant he didn't have to look at him.

             Jim crawled down toward John's feet and yanked his trousers and pants the rest of the way off, leaving John completely bare. He shoved John's legs wide, kissing up his thigh and arse to his back as he pressed a finger into John, curling it up inside of him. He added a second and a third, then, feeling John growing antsy, pulled John hips up at a good angle and thrust into him, moaning and pressing his forehead against John's back.

             John let out a cry of relief and pleasure as he slammed into him. “God—yes!” he choked out. His muscles spasmed around Jim and then he slowly pushed back against him, wanting Jim inside of him balls deep.

             Jim didn't waste time picking up the pace, pulling in and out of John and thrusting fully into him, fucking him thoroughly. Soon sweat was rolling down his temple as he moved faster, arms growing weak from holding himself up, his breath hitting John’s back hotly as he hit against John's prostate over and over again.

             John spread his legs wider. It didn't feel like Sebastian inside of him, so he couldn't pretend it was him, but that was just fine with John. Suddenly, though, he wanted more than just getting fucked into the mattress. So, suddenly, he jerked away from Jim, making him fall out and growl in rage. He turned over, grabbed Jim and rolled, putting Jim on his back, then moved to straddle him. John didn't waste any time before he dropped himself down onto Jim's prick and began bouncing up and down, fucking himself on the other man.

             Jim was positively stunned as John rolled on top of him and began riding him. He laughed aloud, and his laughter turned into a moan as John rode him viciously. God, this was the _best_. He tipped his neck back, Adam's apple jutting toward the ceiling, and gripped John's thighs tightly, thrusting his hips up into him. Panting, he slid his hand around the base of his own cock to keep from coming, the other hand going to John's to begin stroking him off. "F-Fuck—" he moaned.

             John didn't stop as Jim moved his hands to their cocks, just continued moving, angling his hips so that Jim hit him in just the right spots. He stopped for a minute to catch his breath. He ground his hips downwards, making Jim move inside him, then started slamming back down on him again.

             John felt incredible around him. Jim had never been with someone who wanted so badly to be skewered and screwed senseless. It made him feel delirious—he could feel his eyes rolling back in his head. "Unghh—that's it, John—that's it! _Yes_ , you slut!" he growled.

             John let out a low, broken moan as he moved up and down. He could feel himself starting to get close, but he wasn't ready to come yet so he pulled up off of Jim yet again. He turned his back to Jim, gave it a moment, then slammed back down onto him, riding him hard.

             Jim bit his own lip, his head bumping against the bed with the force of John's movements. He stretched his hands out and gripped John's hips, bucking up to meet John's thrusts, groaning as he buried himself into John again and again.

             John panted and groaned. After another minute or so, he turned back around to face Jim. He continued to slam down on him, then, without warning, he shuddered, his muscles clenched around Jim's cock, and he came across his stomach.

             Jim groaned in relief as John's muscles clenched around him, yanking on John's hips to pull him out of him before he came hard, yelling. That had been fantastic. If sex was always like that, he'd have it far more often. Why, he'd never get any work done! "Woo! Goodness, Johnny—" he panted, wiping sweat from his forehead. He craned his neck and looked with visible disgust at John's come on his stomach. "Clean that off," he ordered.

             John looked down at him flatly. He was sated. “Do it yourself. I'm going home.” He moved off of Jim and started pulling his clothes back on. Yes. That had been good. He was still angry and disgusted with himself, but in general, he felt much better.

             Jim collapsed, exhausted. "I knew you had that in you, pet. That ferocity. It was on a matter of time before—" He curled his lip and used some tissues to wipe off his stomach. "Well, John. I'll be seeing you," he said, waving flirtatiously from the bed as John dressed.


	17. Hurt

             John ignored Jim as he zipped his trousers and buttoned his shirt. Without a backward glance, he turned and left the house, feeling a strange mix of relief, regret, and disgust.

             Jim smiled to himself as he lay naked on the bed, thinking about what he'd just witnessed. John had been such a mess. The image and feel of John riding him viciously, gyrating until he was senseless, was going to be burned in his mind for a long time.

 

            Sebastian came home late the next morning nursing a massive hangover. He not only felt like shit physically, but in every other way possible. He barely remembered the sex, he was so smashed, but he remembered being discontented with the vain, shallow guy he'd been with, even through the alcoholic haze. He woke up with a sore throat—he must've smoked an entire pack—foul breath, a throbbing headache, and that same gaping hole in his chest that hadn’t grown any smaller at all. He missed John terribly.

            He wondered if John was still fucking Jim. Why hadn't he seen it before? Of _course_ John would be attracted to Jim. The only reason he'd probably been attracted to Sebastian was because he was a big strong army colonel. John had issues. Obviously. If actually sought out people like himself and Jim to be around. He headed up to his bedroom in a cloud of self-loathing, then bumped into Jim. "Thanks for the day off," he muttered. "How's John?"

             Jim smirked and quirked an eyebrow. “Oh dear. Not as bad as you, I'd wager...but that's because we had a lovely little fuck last night. Quite the desperate little thing, isn't he? _Really_ enjoys getting fucked, wouldn't you agree? He rode me hard until he collapsed. This was the most active I've seen him in the bedroom...” Jim paused and gave a thoughtful look. “Well, I suppose that was because I had to tie him down last time. He came back for more, though, didn't he? Do _you_ want to come back for more, Sebby?” His hand lightly clawed down Sebastian's chest.

            Sebastian went cold as he thought about John being tied down and fucked by Jim, being fucked by him in general. Loving it. He didn't know which was worse, the thought of John having sex with Jim against his will or having sex with Jim and enjoying it.

            "H-he did?" he managed in a very quiet voice. He swallowed. He hated how he still wanted John, after all of this. He shouldn't miss him. He shouldn't want him. He should never have wanted him, but as hard as he tried, he couldn't make his feelings disappear. He would do anything if he could make them disappear.            

            “Oh, yes, Sebastian, he was very keen. I can see why had him several times. He’s a fantastic fuck. Full of surprises.” Even as Jim said this, his hand was running down Sebastian’s cheek, then his fingertips were trailing down his chest.

            Sebastian raised his eyebrow at Jim’s roaming fingers. "Wouldn't your new fuck buddy get jealous if you went back to me?" he asked dryly.

             Jim rolled his eyes. “’Fuck buddy’? How crude. I simply prefer to think of him as a toy. And yes, he did. After you left him, he was hardly going to go begging at your door to be banged, so I took up your place.” Jim smiled and gave a fond, remembering hum. Jim withdrew his hand. “Now then, love, I've got work to do, and so do you—double today, if you'll recall. Now, off you scoot. There's people to skin, bombs to build.”

             "He's _not_ a toy," Sebastian said viciously.

             “I suppose you're right. It's a bit of an overstatement to call him even that. Now wash up. You smell like shit.” Jim ran a hand through his hair and lightly patted Sebastian on the cheek. “Ciao, darling.”

             Sebastian glared at him. He wanted to shut down his own heart. He'd get dressed, get into his routine, do the job. He tromped to his room, showered, dress, chose his guns and ammunition and telescopes. Before he left, he texted John before he could stop himself:

 

_Did you have a good fuck with Jim last night? -SM_

 

            John's heart sank as he received and read Sebastian's message. He shouldn’t be at all surprised that Jim had told him.

 

_Sebastian, I'm sorry. –JW_

 

            Sebastian hadn't expected that. He'd expected a retort. He _deserved_ a retort. After all, where had _he_ been last night?

 

_I imagine Jim told you what I was doing last night. -SM_

_Yeah. -JW_

_I'm sorry, John. I hate myself today. -SM_

_I hate myself every day, Sebastian. -JW_

_...I hope you find whoever you're looking for. -JW_

 

            Because it obviously wasn't him.

 

_I'm not looking for anyone, John. Why are you with him?!? He called you a toy, John. I would never call you that, and you know it. You've never been that to me.-SM_

 

            He needed to stop. He couldn't stand here and emotionally dump over texting. But he couldn't stop himself from sending the text.

 

_He called me a toy because that's what I /am/ to him, Sebastian. And it doesn't matter what you would call me or not--even if I /was/ just a toy to you. I know you sleep with Jim, Sebastian. He told me. And that's fine, I just wish that if you hadn't been looking for something serious, you wouldn't have led me on to believe that. I have to go now, my shift is starting. -JW._

 

_John, I /work/ for him. I have to do what he says. I never slept with him after I started seeing you. -SM_

 

[No response]

 

            Sebastian checked his phone three or four more times as he finished getting ready for work. As he left to catch the bus to his first location, he texted John again.

 

_What? You don't believe me? -SM_

 

[No response]

 

_Fine, John. Crawl back to Jim. Be miserable. Because he's clearly not making you happy. Ever since that night in the hotel, you've been miserable, and it's because of him. -SM_

 

[No response]

 

            John didn't check his phone for the rest of the day. Forgetting about it really. It wasn't until later that night that he remembered it and flicked it back on, hoping that he didn't have any messages from Jim. He didn't, but there were several from Sebastian. He read through them and clenched his jaw, deciding not to respond. He needed to stop everything with Sebastian. It was for both of their sakes. He curled  up on his bed, phone still in his hand and eventually fell into a fitful sleep. At about three in the morning, in the midst of a nightmare, his hand, still clutching his phone, dialed Sebastian.

             Sebastian groaned from his sleep and answered the phone, not even looking at the name on the phone since he couldn't quite peel his eyes open. "Huhhh?" he garbled out sleepily.

             John whimpered and flipped over, tangling himself in the covers, muttering to himself as he broke out in a cold-sweat.

             "Huh?" Sebastian rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Who is this?" He recognized that breathing, that voice. "....John?" He was much more awake now.

             “Sorry—I'm sorry, just don't hurt him, I'm sorry—“ he choked out in between incoherent mumblings.

             "John, what're you—John—!" Sebastian sat up in a panic. Was someone hurting John?! He sounded so scared. "John, _where are you_?" He was already getting out of bed, dressing awkwardly as he held the phone to his ear.

             “ _Please_! You said you'd leave Sebastian alone—“ he choked out, his hands squeezing as he tensed under the covers. His thumb hit the end button, and the call was over.

             Sebastian slid the phone away from his ear slowly as the dial tone sounded. It didn't take a genius to piece together what had happened. He threw his phone on the bed and left him room, barging into Jim's bedroom. " _You lied to me_ ," He barked in a loud voice.

             “UGH. _Sebastian_! I am trying to sleep, what the _hell_ is your problem?!” Jim growled from his bed.

             Sebastian swept over to him and pressed down on his throat. "You lied. You said John wanted it. That's not true, is it? You forced him into this. You're sick, Jim. I _will_ kill you." He stared down at him in rage.

             Jim gave Sebastian a death glare as he looked up at him. “Oooooh, Sebastian. That's what you'd like to think, isn't it? Maybe it started out that way, but the tables turned last night. I gave him the option to leave but he stayed here. In fact, I think his exactly phrasing was ‘Fuck me.’ Isn't the truth painful?” Jim's smirked widened and his slid his hand down Sebastian's chest to grab at his groin. “Mmm...he _wants_ me, Seb...” he murmured.

             Sebastian gasped in surprise as Jim touched his groin, letting up on his throat in sheer shock. Jim knew exactly where to touch to make his knees buckle. Jim knew every inch of him, something he both loathed and loved. "What are you doing?" he asked.

             “Oh, Sebby, come on. Just a _little_ romp? I'll even let you take the reins for once if you want them,” he murmured, leaning forward to lick up the side of his face. “It's been ssoooo long…” Jim’s hot, drawn-out breath rolled off Sebastian’s cheek. His hand grabbed at Sebastian’s arse. He figured he might as well distract Sebastian from sex by using sex.

             Sebastian growled and grabbed his throat. He was already breathing hard. He knew all too well that hating Jim and fucking Jim went hand in hand, and he had never hated Jim as much as he did right now. It was sick and wrong, he knew it was, that he was already getting hard. He knew it was wrong that he used sex as a cure-all, but that didn't mean he was going stop. " _I_ get to take the reigns? You sure about that, Jimbo?" He asked, his malicious, hateful expression growing even more pronounced as he stared into those black eyes.

             Jim puckered his lips and furrowed his brow. “Ooo, yes, I think it's near time you did. Or do you want to just take the easy way out and ride me like Johnny did last night? Going by his moans, it feels rather good,” he smirked, grabbing at Sebastian's groin again.

             Sebastian growled and pressed down harder on Jim's throat, cutting off his breath. " _You don't get to talk about John any more tonight, is that understood_?" He moved onto Jim's bed to straddle him, still keeping a firm hold on his throat. He pressed a biting kiss into Jim lips, moving to painfully tweak one of Jim's nipples through his t-shirt.

             Jim let out a small, strained, nasal moan, and asked with what little breath he had, “Is this what you did to Johnny?”

             Sebastian let out a cry of rage and removed his hand from Jim's throat to strike him hard across the face. "I care about John. That's the difference between him and you, Jim," he said, yanking Jim's shirt up, and forcing it off his head and arms, tearing it a bit in the process. He grabbed a fistful of Jim's hair with one hand and his shoulder with the other and forced him to sit upright, then climbed off him and kicked him forcefully off the bed, sending him sprawling onto the floor. As Sebastian clawed off his own trousers, he barked, "on your knees."

             Jim laughed, thoroughly enjoying himself. “Yes _sir_ ,” he purred, a smirk on his lips. He pushed himself up to his elbows and knees. “I bet John calls you _that_ , doesn't he?” Jim continued on, mocking John's voice. “Oh, Colonel Moran! _Fuck_ me! _Fuck me_!”

            Sebastian grabbed his hair again and pulled him off his elbows, striking him hard again. “ _I said on your knees_!" He yanked off his own pants and trousers and let them pool around his ankles, spreading his knees apart as he sat on the edge of the bed. "Suck me, _now_."

Jim rolled his eyes. “Dull,” he said as he sidled up between his legs. He let his fingers ghost along Sebastian's cock, then licked a long stripe up it, blowing softly on it.

             Sebastian's breath hitched. "You and I h-have...different definitions of dull, boss..."

             “Obviously,” Jim grumbled. He leaned forward again, and began to lightly nip along the side of Sebastian's cock, one hand moving to very lightly tug at his balls.

             Sebastian gasped, then growled, sick of the teasing, and grabbed a fistful of Jim's hair, pulling him toward his cock. "I'm already hard, in case you hadn't noticed."

             Jim hissed in a sharp breath as his head was yanked backwards. “I _had_ , actually, dear.”

             "Then get on with it before I make you sorry," Sebastian said, twisting his hair harder. He was drunk on causing Jim pain right now. He could hurt him forever.

             Jim grit his teeth. “Oh _really_ , Sebby? And how are you going to do _that_?”

             Sebastian lifted Jim's chin with one finger. "I know a thousand ways to hurt you, and you know it," he said. It was a hollow threat. He could only hurt Jim physically, and Jim rather liked that. He wished he knew how to hurt Jim emotionally, as Jim had done to him, but Jim’s emotions—if he had them—were impenetrable.

             Jim grinned. “Physically...you mean. Wounds that will heal...oh dear, but you seem to have shown your hand, Sebby. You don't scare me, you know that, don't you? I was able to snatch your dear little doctor out from under you, and there wasn't and _isn’t_ anything you can do about it.”

             "I could kill you." Even as the words left Sebastian's mouth, he knew they would mean nothing to Jim. Jim wasn't afraid of death. Sebastian had known plenty of people who claimed that, but Jim was the only one who could say it with absolute conviction. He would walk straight into a bullet grinning if it meant things were going his way. Sebastian found the small value Jim put on his life both admirable and disturbing. He realized that Jim was getting exactly what he wanted—he wanted Sebastian to hurt him, to try and fail to cause any sort of pain that was more than skin-deep. Well, he wasn't playing anymore. "Get off me," he said. "We're done." Sebastian kicked Jim away from him and stood up. "You're not worth it."


	18. Lie

 Jim chortled and climbed back on the bed to sit on the edge as he watched Sebastian go. He hummed, amused, and leaned back on his bed. “My, my...John isn't going to like this very much...I _did_ tell him not to say anything,” he said, murmuring to himself in a way that forced Sebastian to listen.

             Sebastian whirled on him. "He didn't tell me anything. I'm not stupid, Jim. I figured it out. He told me he was attracted to you."

             Jim just closed his eyes, smiling to himself and shook his head lightly, not believing. 'And you came to this conclusion at 2:30 in the morning? Hmm...I don't think I believe that at _all_. I _did_ warn him...he's going to be so sad.”

             "Warned him about what?" Sebastian said, stepping over to him.

             “Ahh, nothing to worry about. I thought you were leaving? Go on then, off you go.”

            Sebastian strode over and yanked Jim upright, shaking him. "Warned him about _what_ , Jim? He called me _in his sleep_! He was having a nightmare! He was saying, 'You promised you wouldn't hurt Sebastian!' So is that what the price is, then? If he tells, I get hurt? Well, I'm right here, Jim! Somehow I doubt if John will care very much, so what are you waiting for? Do what you want with me, or _try_ to. Honestly, I doubt you'll make it very far.”

             Jim giggled. “Temper, _temper_ , Sebby! Yes of _course_ I threatened to kill you, but you're hardly the only one! All of his friends and family are at stake! But you, Sebastian...” Jim grinned and slowly shook his head, his voice getting softer and more manic, his dark eyes locked with Sebastian’s.  “ _You_ are going to be the last one to go because he cares about you the most...even more than his precious Sherlock, I’d say.”

             Sebastian's heart pounded. Was he right? Did John really care about him that much? He knew exactly where Jim kept his knife. His hand flicked to the bedroom table drawer to grab it. He would kill Jim. It had come to that, and he would.

             Jim saw what Sebastian was doing and didn't move, a smirk still plastered across his face. “Killing me, are you? I wouldn't do that if I were you.”

             Sebastian seized Jim by his hair and pressed the knife hard against Jim's throat, drawing a couple drops of blood. "Give me one good reason why. You took away the only person I have ever loved. You _tortured_ him. You manipulated him. You have no reason to continue living. I know it all traces back to me, Jim. There aren't any men ready to kill me if I off you. I'm the weak link in your web, because I was always loyal to you. You never thought you'd need it." Sebastian, in fact, was not at all sure how Jim's twisted web worked: only Jim knew how all the strings pulled and affected each other. That's why he was the mastermind. But Sebastian was fairly certain that Jim didn't have a sniper on him. He hoped, anyway.

             “Oh God, you silly man,” Jim laughed, even as the metal cut in to him, “You couldn't be more wrong. Of _course_ I have people in place to kill you! _John_ is the weakest link, here, darling. Not you.” Jim closed his eyes and hummed contentedly, “And you'll not wanting to be killing me, because every morning I have to alert my men on standby not to kill you, John's housekeeper, Sherlock, John's sister, and John himself.” He opened his eyes and looked up at Sebastian wickedly. “You know my schedule. I wake up at five nearly every morning, which gives you...mmm 3 hours, we'll say, if we’re being generous. If you killed me, you'd have to rescue John and all of his acquaintances before they were all blown to bits. On the other hand, if _I_ live, John lives. Your choice,” Jim sneered, and leaned farther against the blade.

             Sebastian withdrew the knife, cursing. Of course. It was never so simple. He threw the knife into the wall with a yell of rage and watched it quiver, the blade point buried in the wallpaper. He turned back to Jim and swallowed. "Please. Don't hurt anyone. He didn't mean to. And I would have figured it out anyway. He didn't mean to," Sebastian repeated. He fell on his knees and swallowed. "I will do whatever you want me to, Jim. Please, don't hurt John…or his family and friends.”

            Jim smirked. “Oh, look who's on their knees _now_! Hm. Let’s see. I suppose I should come up with a punishment for both of you...John just won’t know he's being punished. Tomorrow, you're going to tell John it was all fake. You're going to tell him that you were using him, that he was a good shag, nothing more. Say something along the lines of that you could never _actually_ seriously be with someone as wimpy and pathetic as him. Tell him he disgusts you and that _I_ am where your real loyalties lie. And I'll be bugging you so I can listen in. I want this to be a face to face conversation. That will be the _first_ part of the punishment, at least…”

             Sebastian stared up at him in horror. He was going to lose John. Forever. John was going to loathe him. John's heart would break. John would move on, of course he would, but there would always be that chunk that Sebastian had ripped out. But what is worse than John being dead? No. Of course not. Sebastian would rather see John alive than to be responsible for his death or the deaths of those he loved. He finally asked, "And John will be safe? You'll—" he swallowed, mortified to feel tears welling in his eyes. He was _not_ going to cry in front of Jim. "You'll leave him alone?"

             Jim let out a surprised laugh. “What?! God, no, I'm not going to leave him alone! He's far too good a fuck for that. Whatever the hell gave you _that_ impression?”

            Sebastian's blood ran cold. "So I have to choose between John dying and John being miserable and tortured?! How can you expect me to make a decision like that?"

             Jim gave a huff of annoyance. “Oh, shut up and decide. I'm rather tired and you've wasted a good portion of my sleep.”

             "He lives," Sebastian said. He swallowed. "I'll tell him...." If John was still alive, there was still hope. But what if he had made the wrong choice? Would John even _want_ to be alive after Sebastian ground his heart into tiny bits of glass and Jim made him a permanent fuck toy? Sebastian shuddered at the very thought.  "I'll tell him." He cried then, and he couldn't stop himself. He sat back on his heels and doubled over into the floor, his weeping causing his tiger tattoo to ripple and twitch. He didn't even care if Jim saw.

             Jim rolled his eyes and gave him a disgusted look. “Get out, I want to sleep—and keep your crying down if you want John to be alive in the morning.”

             Sebastian pulled himself to his feet and went back to the bedroom, unable to look at Jim again through his tear-rimmed eyes. In the morning he texted John.

 

_We need to talk. I think you deserve to know the truth. -SM_

 

            John woke to the vibration of his phone. He was exhausted and the sheets were wrapped around him. He rubbed his red eyes, trying to get rid of the bags beneath them to no avail and checked his phone and frowned a bit.

_Um, okay...did you want to meet up somewhere? -JW_

_You pick the spot. I'm free at 9. -SM_

 

He couldn't do this. He couldn't.

 

Nine? That was in half an hour, John would have to hurry and get up.

 

_...is Speedy's alright with you? I've just woken. -JW_

 

             Sebastian hurried to the cafe. He considered ordering a coffee, but he didn't want to linger. He could feel the wires crawling up his jacket, and Jim's voice was in his ear, in a tiny, near-invisible earpiece. "Remember all the parts, Sebby," his voice crooned. Sebastian dug his fingers into the table edge. "Yes, Jim, of course," he muttered woodenly.

             John showed up half an hour later. He'd tried to look presentable, but he still looked awful from his night of fitful sleep. He flexed his jaw and had a bit of trouble looking in Sebastian's eyes as he made his way over to sit across from him at the table in the back. He hesitated before dropping into the seat and glanced up at him. “Before you say anything...I just...I just want to say I'm sorry.”

             "You've nothing to be sorry for," Sebastian said, his heart hammering in his ears. He was having a very difficult time meeting John's eyes as well. He wiped his sweaty hands on his trousers. He would have to be as convincing as he could. Jim had made that very clear. He would rather die.

             “Yeah...yeah, I do though...I've...I've been terrible and I'm sorry...” he muttered, glancing up. “What is it you wanted to talk about it?” he asked, his blue eyes tired and watery looking over dark purple bags.

             Sebastian met John's eyes. "John, I—" _I LOVE YOU_ , he wanted to yell for the whole cafe to hear. _I love you and I'm so terribly sorry_. Instead, he forced a casual, apologetic tone into his voice. "Look, John, I think I let this get really out of hand. It went much further than I thought it would, so I think you deserve some frankness."

             John's brow furrowed a bit. He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but it wasn't that. “Okay…what is it?”

             "When I first met you, I was looking for a quick fuck. You knew that. And obviously it spun into more than that—I don't know if I was just infatuated because you were my enemy or what, but it went on far too long. I never intended it getting so messy and complicated that you would end up, you know, thinking it was serious. _Obviously_ I would never waste my time with someone like you for the long run. My boss's nemesis's sidekick. You were a shag. I was using you." He stopped. He was trying to stare through John, to not see his face, to not see the heartbreak cloud John's eyes. It wasn’t working.

            Jim's voice was in his ear again. "Don't forget. He's pathetic and he disgusts you, and your loyalties will always lie with me. Isn't that right, Sebby?"

            Sebastian clenched his teeth together and continued. "You're pathetic, really. Going after someone like me? _Falling_ for someone like me? How did you ever expect that to end well? You disgust me." He felt more like he was talking about himself. He had never loathed himself so much. "My loyalties will always lie with Jim. Even if he does choose you as a fuck toy."

             John couldn't speak. His breath had been knocked out of him with mere words. Hadn't it just been the day before that Sebastian had said he would never call him a "fuck toy"? Being a medical man, John would never have thought that it was possible to actually _feel_ your heart break. It had hurt horribly before, back when he had had to tell Sebastian he liked Jim, but now...now didn't even compare. It simultaneously felt as if someone was squeezing it, as if it had shattered into a hundred thousand pieces, and like a massive, gaping hole had been ripped in it. He had never felt so stupid or foolish in his life. It had been a game. All of it. Of course he meant nothing to Sebastian. He had probably found him online, knew who he was and thought it would be good fun to have a shag and a laugh at John's expense. His cheeks flashed between hot and cold, as if his pulmonary system couldn't decide if they wanted him to blush or be completely drained of blood. John realized he had stopped breathing and took in a small, hitched breath. God he was such a fool! He _loved_ Sebastian! He had wanted to protect him from Jim, and now it turned out that they were in it together.

            After a long silence in which John wanted nothing more than to fade away and disappear into a puff of humiliation, he swallowed thickly, and looked down at the table, giving a little nod. His voice was soft. “I see...was...was there anything else you wanted me to know?” He looked back up, tears forming in his eyes. He would hold them back. He wouldn't lose it now. He would wait until he was behind the closed door of his bedroom to break down.

             Sebastian saw John's face even though he didn't want to. He could barely hold it together as he stood up. "I think that's all that needs to be said." It took every ounce of him to keep his voice neutral. He left then, swiftly. He wanted to die. He couldn't bear to turn around to see John again. "It's done, boss," he muttered into the earpiece. "Be back soon." He grabbed the nearest cab and sat in it stonily. He could feel his insides crumbling. It was only a matter of time before he collapsed completely.


	19. Dinner for Three

 John sat silently in the cafe for another minute or so, still trying to wrap his brain around the hurt that was bubbling inside of him. He felt hollow and empty; a complete fool. He finally rose to his feet and soon found himself back in bed, curled under the covers in that now familiar position. He wanted to cry, but he couldn't. He was too hurt, too humiliated, too drained to cry, and so he just lay there silently, wishing he would just die.

             Sebastian got home and walked in, darkly looking at Jim. "Well, I did it. Just hand over the award for best actor now," he said dully. He would never stop hating Jim for this. He burned loathing hatred from his eyes.

            Jim smirked. “Oh darling, and didn't you do phenomenally well?” He gave Sebastian a slow clap as he walked behind him, then wrapped his arms around Sebastian's waist. “Just wait until tomorrow, lover. You'll get to put your acting skills to the test again.” He lightly kissed the back of Sebastian’s neck.

             Sebastian stiffened. "You don't get to touch me," he said through clenched teeth. "Ever, _ever_ again. I hate you."

             Jim smiled against his back. “I can do whatever I want.”

            Sebastian yanked away from him. Of course Jim could do whatever he wanted. "What do you mean, I have to act again tomorrow?" he spat. "What more could I possibly say to ruin John?"

             Jim's eyebrows went up. “Oh, you won’t have to _say_ anything, and neither will he. In fact, I imagine it would be fairly difficult for you two to have a conversation while he’s sucking your cock and I’m fucking his tight, sweet, arse. Now, doesn't that sound like fun?” Jim smiled brightly.

             Sebastian's eyes widened slowly. "No. No, Jim, you can't be serious, _no_. I'm not, I can't. He hates me!" he babbled. "He won't ever agree. He would never—I won't ever do that to him—"

             Jim's expression suddenly turned dark and he roared, “HE DOESN'T _HAVE_ TO AGREE, AND NEITHER DO _YOU_!”

             Sebastian punched Jim, knuckles connecting with Jim’s nose. Blood spurted from Jim’s nose. "WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO, JIM? _RAPE_ US BOTH? You wouldn’t even be able to take _me_ against my will!" Ohh, sure, he'd struggled against Jim before, but Jim had never seen him _really_ put up a fight. He wouldn't stand a chance.

             Jim held his bloody nose and whipped his furious gaze back on Sebastian. “I said you don't _have_ to agree, but you _will_ , because if _he_ doesn't, his friends and family die, and if you don't, HE dies.”

             "I hate you," Sebastian said, walking past him. "And I'm leaving. I don't have to kill you. I just have to leave. You'd be nothing without me anyway."

             Jim's head tipped back and he laughed, then was suddenly serious again, blood still dripping, ruby red down his face. “Sebastian, I think you're forgetting a few things. I didn't hire you at the beginning of my career. To say I'm ‘nothing’ without you is a simply comical. Secondly, if you _don't_ participate in our little rendezvous together—guess what happens then? JOHN DIES! I thought that by now you'd understand that.”

             Of course Sebastian understood it. Everywhere he turned, that was the consequence. "Jim, please. I'll do anything. Don't make me rape John. _Please_."

             “You _won't_ be raping John,” Jim said lightly. “He'll consent. He knows what will happen if he doesn't. He'll consent. It'll be dubious consent of course, but consent never the less.”

             "It's still rape. He won't want it. I'll be raping him," Sebastian said sharply. "I don't know who he loathes more at this point, you or me. It'll be rape, and nothing you say will change that. So. What time is this happening? Because I swear to God, I will kill myself as soon as it's over. So long as that's all right with you, of course," he said.

             “That's fine with me, but if _you_ die, so does John. I'm thinking in the evening. Mm...yes. Just after dinner would be nice, don't you think? Maybe I'll have him bring us some food. What do you think you'll be wanting to eat?”

             Sebastian went to his gun room without replying. He was done humoring Jim in any way other than he had to. He grabbed his favorite gun. He was already a horrible person. He might as well kill some more people today. "I'll see you later," he growled, heading for the door to carry out his latest assignment.

 

            The next day, John got a text.

 

_Dinner date tonight. I've ordered catering from the address below, dinner for three, and a selection of wines. Pick them up--they're already paid for. See you at 8 sharp. Look presentable. xxx JM_

 

             John didn't respond to the text, just silently and woodenly went about his day before heading to pick up the food and then Jim's townhouse. Dinner for three. John was fairly certain that he knew what that meant and he dreaded it. He rang the buzzer at the door and walked in a minute later, laden with bags. He carried them to the kitchen and silently set them down on the counter top. Jim was darkly smiling at him from across the room. John looked away and started to unpack the food.

             "Well _done_ , Johnny. When I didn't hear from you I got a bit worried. Seb will be down in a moment. He had to find something more suitable to wear than his normal rags. _You_ know how he is. Light candles when you're done." The table was already set with wine and water glasses, candelabras, salad _and_ entree forks, and fine china. It looked like a fussy meal at a romantic restaurant.

            John swallowed, feeling sick at the praise, but set about lighting the candles on the table when he had finished. He was wearing his suit again. It was the only one he owned, the one he had worn to meet Sebastian on their first date. He loathed how reminiscent this was of the whole thing.

             "Pour yourself some wine and sit down, John," Jim said once John had finished. "Tonight's a _very_ special night." He grinned widely, eyes cold.

            John didn't want to know what that meant and silently poured himself a glass, taking a seat behind one of the plates.

            Sebastian straightened his tie in the mirror. It was dark red against his black suit and shirt. Jim had picked it, of course. He was putting off going downstairs as long as possible. His heart had begun hammering in his chest as soon as he'd heard the door open and shut, and now it was lodged up in his throat. He finally sighed and turned to head downstairs, using every last once of his military training to try and separate his emotions. All of that crumbled, however, when he walked in and saw John at the dinner table in the same suit they'd worn on their very first date. God, he'd been so happy. He remembered how the sight of John had made his heart flutter and his stomach twist in excitement. Now he just ached when he looked at him.

            John heard Sebastian walk in but didn't look up from his plate, determined not to look up at him. He swallowed hard and clenched his hands in his lap, feeling the wave of horribleness and heart-ache from yesterday wash back over him. He was just a toy. Just a game for the both of them; a pawn and nothing more. He had expected that from Jim, but not from Sebastian, never from Sebastian. He couldn't even be mad at Sebastian; he was far angriet at himself for being such a blind fool.

            “Aaah, Sebby, come to join us, finally? Take a seat and I'll bring over the food. John, be a doll and poor Sebastian some wine.”

            John didn’t look up as he poured Sebastian a glass. Sebastian sank into his chair and stared at his plate as Jim ordered John to dish them up food. He wouldn't be able to stomach any of it, and he doubted John would either. Once they were all settled in and eating or, in Sebastian and John's case, staring at their food, Jim leaned over and stroked his hand up John's wrist. Sebastian shook with rage, unable to look away as the man's fingers crawled over John's flesh. "Sebastian told you the truth, did he? He told me all about it. Honestly, John, I'm amazed you believed it for so long. Sebastian's quite the actor when he wants to be—" he looked over meaningfully at Sebastian. John had no idea what sort of actor Sebastian was. "It’s better for all of us now that you know the truth and we are all clear with each other. Which is why I have a proposition for you, John."

             John continued to stare down at his food as Jim's fingers lightly caressed him. “What is it, then?” he asked in a strained, quiet voice.

             Jim stroked the back of his fingers down John's cheek. "Baby, I think it's time we took our relationship to the next level. You're moving in with us."

            " _WHAT_?!" Sebastian started, nearly dropping his crystal wine glass. Jim had never said anything about that to him. Stuck here with John, John who hated him, John who would see nothing but misery all day? His one consolation in this whole scenario had been that John might find some solace with Sherlock, with work, with his friends. Now Jim was taking that all away.

            "Ooh, don't be jealous, kitten," Jim laughed at Sebastian, leaning in to lick up John's ear. "There's plenty of me to go around."

             John's head swung up to look at Jim in shock, a look of utter misery and desperation on his face. Sebastian's shock just barely registered and John's mouth hung open. “Wha? Please...please don't make me do that...please—just...just let me have _some_ semblance of a life—“ John begged.

             Jim winced theatrically. "Ouch! So a life with me is no life at all? _Johnny_ , just because you'll be a slave doesn't mean you can't find some sort of fulfillment! I'll give you work to do. I have loads of men who need patching up on a regular basis, including Sebastian here. I think it would be better for all involved if you became a permanent part of my staff. And obviously you wouldn't be allowed to contact Sherlock ever again. We'll work out the details tomorrow: What to tell your work colleagues, giving your two weeks' notice at the clinic, what you'll tell Sherlock, etc. Blah blah blah, paperwork."

            Sebastian seethed. "Jim, you can't do this," he blurted out.

             John didn't even hear Sebastian. Everything was falling to pieces. There was a loud roaring in his ears, everything becoming dull and hazy around the edges. He’d _never_ see Sherlock again? Sherlock was the only person he had left, the only person who actually cared about him.

            Jim glared at Sebastian and hissed, “I can do whatever I want—I thought we went over this last night. Now behave or there will be consequences.” He looked pointedly at the ruined man that was once John Watson before looking back at Sebastian.

            John wasn't sure how loud he said it, but he was fairly certain that his words came out. “And...and if I do this...you won’t hurt anyone I love?”

             "No, of course not," Jim said, and Sebastian's heart wilted. He was no longer in that category. "Darling, of course not. You'll belong to me, even more than you did before, at my beck and call, and everyone you care so much about will safe, far out of my way."

             John felt the last of his willpower and soul, everything that he was, drain out of him. “Okay...” he said at his plate, barely loud enough to hear. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he wondered if Sebastian was enjoying this. Poor, pathetic John Watson. Well, if he wasn't pathetic before, he was now. Sebastian had him pegged.

            “Bravo!” Jim chirped. Now that we’ve agreed on the arrangement, I call a toast!” He raised his glass, not caring that John and Sebastian sat numbly and said nothing. “To my new pet!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm so sorry. The next chapter is far worse. I swear to God things get better. ...Just not right now.
> 
> ALSO I'm going on a road trip, so no new updates until February 7 or 8. Sorry for the delay!


	20. Pet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorry

             Sebastian downed his wine. He couldn't be sober for this next part. He couldn't bear it. "Ah, ah, Seb, easy on the drinks. We wouldn't you getting whiskey dick, would we? Not for what's coming up for dessert," Jim said. He locked his eyes on John, then put a hand under John's chin and raised it, forcing John to meet his eyes. "I have a celebration planned tonight, John," he said in an eerily soft voice. "Remember how much fun we had the _last_ time we were together? Well, tonight's your lucky night. Your two favorite shag partners, together for one spectacular double act—are you about to mess your trousers at the very thought? I know Sebastian is.” He flicked his eyes to Sebastian, who was staring at him in contempt.             He couldn't bear the thought of John riding Jim willingly, loving it. If John enjoyed himself tonight, he would never recover. If John was in torment through it all, he would crumble. There was no way this evening wasn't going to be the worst of his life.

             John didn't say anything, just stared blankly ahead, hollowly. For the first time in his life, John actually began to contemplate suicide. If he killed himself, it would be over. No more torture, no more threats. He'd do what Jim wanted tonight, but after this...no more. He couldn't. He wondered if anyone would ever find out what happened to him or if he would just disappear. Perhaps he’d be stashed away where Sebastian hid all the other bodies of men he'd killed. People who were meaningless to him. It would suit quite nicely.

             Jim watched him as he drank another glass of wine. "You both clean up so well—I'm barely able to contain myself. Honestly, there's about a million different ways we could do this. I think we should go with what comes naturally, although personally I'm crossing my fingers that we get some military play in. A captain and a colonel...my cup runneth over." He clicked his fingers. "Seb, carry John upstairs and take off his clothes. Tie him up the way we talked about."

            " _Carry_ him? He can walk, can't he?" Sebastian asked, but Jim's warning glare cut him off. His heart pounded. Jim had spent the day running over possibilities of how they could have John. Sebastian had thrown up multiple times during the day, in private, and now the wine was settling unpleasantly in his hollow stomach. He rose, threw down his napkin, and walked over to John, waiting awkwardly for John to stand up. He'd really rather not yank John out of his chair. He was reminded painfully of the date where he'd "abducted" John. He regretted it now. It had been so fun, so incredible at the time, so naughty, but now he wanted to erase all those rough moments with John, as amazing as they had been, and replace them with the most tender, loving gestures he could. Too late for that.

            John silently stood, his chair lightly scraping the floor. He didn't want Sebastian to carry him, but all will and motivation to argue had been drained from him. There wasn't a point. They could use his body however they wanted because tomorrow he would be free of it.

            Sebastian lifted John into his arms, bridal style, refusing to fling John over his shoulder as he'd done before. Was there any way he could tell John anything without Jim knowing? He silently and smoothly carried John up the steps. It had been so long since he'd gotten to touch John. He wanted to carry him into his room and lock themselves in and tell him the truth, tell him everything, to hold them and protect him. Instead, he carried John to Jim's room and set him down gently. Still silent, he began undressing John as if he was a mannequin, resisting the urge to brush his lips over John's bullet wound—he'd missed that, he realized. He'd missed it and he hadn't even known how much until he saw it again. He couldn't stop his fingers from brushing over it for just a moment. He knelt in front of John, which seemed a fitting position. He wanted to beg on his knees for forgiveness. He undid John's belt buckle, slid it loose, then loosened John's zipper and slid his trousers down. He moved his hands to John's waistband, looked up, and for a moment their eyes met. "I'm sorry," he murmured, then slipped John's pants down, leaving him naked.

             John barely even noticed Sebastian's finger's brushing over his skin. He was far too busy trying to not remember all of the time they'd spent together before this. John _almost_ believed Sebastian when he apologized, but not quite. He looked away and mumbled, “How did he want me tied?”

             It took a long time for Sebastian to answer. He began pulling out the supplies Jim had readied, then finally said, "...In an at ease position. So. If you could, erm...step out of your trousers and take off your shoes and socks..." He waited for John to do so, then pulled John's hands behind him, folding them up so his wrists were crossed and bound between his shoulder blades, as Jim had wanted. He took a spreader bar and pushed John's legs apart, securing his ankles so he couldn't move them back together. The next part was harder for him to bear to do. He took a thick collar, a posture collar, that would force John to keep his chin up and his head facing forward. Once that was buckled on, he took a wide bit gag, asked quietly for John to open his mouth, then pushed it inside, buckling it behind John as well. He stepped behind John, unable to bear seeing him like this, and kissed his shoulder once. "John, remember...whatever Jim does to your body, he can't take _you_.” He hoped he'd said it quietly enough that Jim's bugs couldn't hear. The bedroom was bugged, naturally. He doubted John believed him. Who could blame him? He'd snatched his heart away and now had trussed him up to be standing unsteadily in front of the door, as vulnerable as could be. The final piece Jim wanted. He took a butt plug and coated it with lube, then pressed it up against John's hole, as a warning of what was coming, then slowly pushed it in.

             John let out a small whimper as the plug was pushed in. The position he was in was a bit precarious and uncomfortable, but it was more humiliating than anything. At ease. Military. Sebastian. He hadn't realized he had any heart left to hurt until it started doing just that. John's eyes moved over to the corner of his eyes as Sebastian whispered softly to him. This was probably just part of the game. Some sort of “good cop, bad cop” thing to mess with him more. Well, Jim won, because it was working. The illusion that Sebastian cared hurt horribly, but there was nothing he could do about it.

            Jim pushed the door open and wolf-whistled at John. “Ooh, Johnny, darling, you look spectacular.” He waltzed over and gave his prick a light squeeze before he started to carefully pull of his own clothing. “Sebastian, dear, strip.”

             "Yes, boss," Sebastian murmured submissively, undoing his own tie and changing behind John. He couldn't bear the whimper John had made, seeing him vulnerable and humiliated like this.

             Jim, once completely naked, wearing his skin with the confidence of one of his Westwoods, strode forward to John and ran a hand down the side of his face. “Ooh, John...I'm so glad that you're mine now.”

            John gave a weak protesting moan from behind the gag as Jim glanced over at Sebastian. “Aren't _you_ happy, Sebastian? Don't you think we'll have fun?'

             "Fuck off," Sebastian spat. "I mean, sure, boss, whatever you want, boss," he amended bitterly.

             Jim gave him a glare and mouthed, _ACT CONVINCING OR HE DIES_. “Mm, good, good. Why don't you two have the first go? I've never been able to watch before. Sounds like it could be fun.”

             The _first_ go? How long was Jim planning on dragging this out? "Of course, Jim," Sebastian murmured. He forced himself to step in front of John, feeling disgusting. He ran his hands down John's chest and anchored them around John's ribcage, stabilizing John as well as feeling him. God, despite everything, despite that John's body was tightened up in loathing, he wanted to cry at being able to touch John. He moved his lips to John's shoulder beginning to tenderly kiss the skin. He kissed passionately up John's neck. This might be the last time he ever got to touch John, and it was far, _far_ from how he wanted it to be, but he had to think of this as goodbye. He buried his face against John's neck as kissed his shoulder and collarbone, hiding his tears from him. He wondered if John could feel the wetness against his skin. He wondered if John could feel anything anymore.

             John couldn't move, but he could feel and he could see and he wished he couldn't do either, so he closed his eyes, not liking the view of Jim sprawled on his bed smirking at the pair of them. The downside of this was that his lack of vision made it harder to ignore Sebastian’s lips on his skin. John worked hard to keep his thoughts on all of the cases he and Sherlock had been on. He tried mentally listing elements from the period table. He even resorted to trying to remember the different tobacco ashes Sherlock had catalogued. It worked for small fragments at a time, but not enough to keep a tear from slipping out of the corner of one of his eyes and slowly rolling down his cheek.

            Sebastian felt the teardrop against his face as his moved up to kiss John's earlobe, and he had to do everything to stop from sobbing. Instead, he began nibbling and licking at John's earlobe.

            " _Dull_ , Seb. I haven't got all night," Jim drawled from the bed. Sebastian turned to glare at Jim, then trailed a hand down to touch John's cock, coaxing it to hardness. He could feel John's breath quicken behind his gag, and he continued to move his hand along John's cock, occasionally traveling down to tug lightly at his balls. Meanwhile his lips trailed up John's face, pressing a delicate kiss against his closed eyelid, his lips brushing against John's eyebrow. Every movement of his lips on John's skin was an apology and a love letter, even though he knew John would take it as neither.

             John didn't think he would ever be able to forgive himself for getting hard under Sebastian's touch. Luckily for him though, he wouldn't have to, once he’d killed himself. Every kiss, every touch, sickened him. He was just a toy, a thing to be used.

            After a few more minutes, Jim rolled his eyes, “Jesus, Sebastian, this is pathetic. It’s turning me _off_ more than on. Put him on the bed. I'm fucking him and he's sucking you off.”

             Sebastian clenched his teeth together and undid John's collar, then removed the spreader bar from John's ankles. He moved to untie John's hands, but Jim barked, "Leave them." So he took out the gag and pulled out the butt plug, glad at least that it would stretch John out a bit for John. He situated John on bed on his side, moving to sit up so John's mouth could reach his lap, while also leaving his arse accessible for Jim. He hated that he had to think out such sickening logistics.

            John let Sebastian flop him around like a rag doll. This, he was positive, would've been the worst moment of his life if he had had anything left in him to care. As it was, he was hollow. He felt like there was nothing of himself left. His eyes had glazed over, and he felt Jim move up behind him and lay on his side, then realized a moment later that he'd already thrust in to him. Interesting how he hadn't even felt it. Hm. All for the better. It was his turn now, he supposed, and so, he arched neck, and took Sebastian's cock into his mouth while Jim started to thrust.

             Sebastian held John's head, if only to support him so his neck didn't get sore in this awkward position. He gasped and whimpered as John took him in his mouth, despite how horrible he felt about it. He hardened quickly.

            "Mmmm, _God,_ John, your arse is a beautiful place to be. I might never leave," Jim gasped, then looked over at Sebastian. "And you've always looked gorgeous when you're being worked over, Seb," he said. "God, this is delicious..." He began to thrust harder.

            Sebastian squeezed his eyes shut, trying to focus on his hand tangled in John's hair, but he was overtaken with John's mouth around his cock.

             John didn't even know what he was doing. He could feel Jim stretching him open and pounding in to him, keeping up an almost constant monologue about God knows what, but that was really it. His body was taken over, and was just in _do, do, do_ mode, his mind mercifully shutting off.

             Sebastian kept his eyes closed, trying to come as quickly as he could. It was hard, not only because he wasn't in the mood, but because John wasn't trying to stimulate him—he was just moving his mouth back and forth. Who could blame him? He tried to shut out what was actually happening and imagined holding John close, telling him he loved him, being happy, far away from Jim, tasting every inch of him and seeing him bloom in ecstasy—he was getting close when Jim barked, "John, stop sucking him off!"

            As soon as Sebastian pulled away from John, Jim shoving John roughly forward so that his shoulders and face were pressed uncomfortably against the bed, hoisting his hips in the air and thrusting as hard as he could. "What do you say, Seb? Think John could make room for two cocks at once?"

            Sebastian gaped at him. There was no way. Was that even possible? Was Jim _serious_?

            John could hardly breath as he was pressed against the bedding. His shoulders ached, and once he’d registered what Jim said, he let a small whimper escape his lips. They couldn’t.

            “I bet he's got room. Sebby, you'll just need to get under him.” Jim grabbed John's shoulders and yanked him up to his knees. “Sebastian, on your back in front of us.” When Sebastian had done so, Jim shoved John so that he fell forward. Unable to catch himself with his wrists behind his back, he fell flat against Sebastian.

             Sebastian hitched in a breath as John fell against him, holding onto John shoulders. His lips were inches away from John's face, and he breathed hard against it as he felt Jim's hands on his cock, lubing it, stroking it, guiding it against his and then pushing it up into John. It was the most insane feeling—his cock was nudged right up against Jim's, and John felt so unbelievably tight. He gasped out a breath, groaning loudly, unable to stop himself. He held onto John's torso to support him as he felt Jim begin to thrust in and out—every moment was painful and undeniably pleasurable. He could see stars in front of his eyes and squeezed them closed. He should not feel this good. He hated his body at the moment, even as pleasure shot through every inch of him.

             John let out a tortured scream as he felt something tear inside him. Jim's cock moved faster as it was now slicked with blood. It was unbearable and John couldn't help the sob that escaped from his lips. He couldn't take it any more. “Please—!” He yelled out with the last ounce of strength in his lungs. “Please—just _kill_ me, _PLEASE_!” he screamed. He didn't want to wait until after this any longer. He wanted the relief of death, from the pain and hurt and humiliation _now_.

             Sebastian choked out a sob. He pulled out immediately and desperately covered John's eyes so that John couldn't see that he was weeping. Jim thrust a couple more times and came deep inside John, groaning loudly and leaning down to bite John hard in the shoulder. "Oh God, _YES_!!" He fell out of John, laughing at his bloody cock. Sebastian quickly scrambled off the bed and left the room. He was going to get his gun. He was going to end them. End them all. This couldn't continue. He couldn't let John live if John had nothing left to live for. He would kill them all. Then there would be nothing. Nothing had never sounded so wonderful.


	21. Prisoner

            Silent tears poured down John's face, not even noticing Sebastian had disappeared. All he knew was that the rape was over, and it gave him just smallest, minimal amount of relief. He lay limply against the bed, his erection having gone long ago. He could feel blood and semen oozing out of him. Jim had laughed. Of course he had. John didn't know what he had expected. In fact Jim was still chuckling as he lay beside John, spent.

            "Ohhh, Johnny...the fun we'll have for you. We'll have to let you heal up before next time though—I think we tore something in there," he laughed, smacking John's arse. "I've never tried to that before. God, that was... _incredible_. When you've healed up, maybe we can give Sebastian a go? He's just _begging_ for a fuck. I don't imagine you've ever fucked Seb before, have you? It's a treat."

             John didn't reply. He couldn't.

             "You're suicidal, John," Jim observed, sliding a hand up and down John's back. "Obviously. That wouldn't be the productive thing to do, however. That would be idiotic. This is the most painful part. After this, there's no more pain, because your heart will be gone. I'll keep it safe where it'll never feel anything again. No pain, none of that cumbersome love. I'm freeing you, John. Through slavery." He stroked John's hair.

            The door crashed open as Sebastian burst in, gun in hand. Jim blinked at him dully. "Ooh, Sebby, a bit dramatic, isn't it? A _gun_? Really?"

            Stonily, Sebastian held the gun to his own head. "Leave John alone."

            "Kitten, if I do that, he'll kill himself."

            "I'll do the job for him, if he wants."

            "That's very accommodating, Seb, but if you go on a blood spree now, then John's friends and family still die. Is that what you want, Johnny?" He leaned down to whisper in John's ear.

            Sebastian's hand trembled, still holding the gun to his temple.

            “...No...” John breathed quietly. He hadn’t even looked at Sebastian, but he had gathered what was happening. Jim's offer was starting to sound better. No feeling. Not having to care or love or be hurt. “Please don't, Sebastian,” he mumbled against the pillow.

             "I think you should sleep with us tonight, John. For your own protection," Jim said.

            " _Us_?" Sebastian growled. Jim nodded complacently. "There's plenty of room, Seb. John, you'll sleep in the middle. I warn you, I'm a light sleeper."

             “I won't move.” John’s dead eyes stared ahead at nothing as the tears slowly started to cease.

             "Good, then." Jim began untying John's wrists. "Sebastian, take John to be showered off, and clean yourself off as well. I'll be waiting here. If you're not both back in ten minutes I'll slice the soles of your feet and make you crawl around like a dog."

            Sebastian swallowed and helped John to his feet after he was untied, supporting his weight as John limped. He finally couldn't bear it and, once out of eyesight from Jim, scooped John into his arms and carried him the rest of the way to the bathroom. He set him down gently. "John," he murmured quietly and urgently as he began wiping off John's tears with a wet washcloth. "John, listen to me. You have no reason to trust me, but think about this. Why would I tell you I loved you? Why would I spend so long getting to know you just to torture you? John, I don't think I can ever mend this, but I love you. I will always love you. Jim can't ever ever _ever_ know that you know, that I told you. I would—I would kill you if I could, John. If that would fix things." He began sobbing, his hands shaking too much to hold the washcloth anymore. He turned away from John and collapsed to the floor, biting his fist hard to keep inhuman noises of sorrow leak out. "I would do anything to make you happy. I would carry you away from all of this if I could find a way how. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry—" he sobbed into the tile. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry...."

             Again, John just let Sebastian pick him up and move him around. He slumped down as Sebastian placed him on the floor. He was in his own world. His own world of no thinking, no hearing, no feeling. He blinked slowly at the floor. He could hear Sebastian talking but it didn't register. What pulled him from his comatose state was a heaved sob which, to his surprise, didn't come from him. His glazed eyes slowly slid upwards. Having missed everything Sebastian had said, he didn't know what was going on. There was only one thing on his mind. “Please...don't kill anyone I love...I'll do whatever you want...I promise...just please,” he begged softly.

            Sebastian pulled himself up and cupped John's face in his large hands. "John, I'm not going to hurt anyone you love." _Unless Jim orders me to, of course,_ he thought bleakly. What _would_ he do if that happened? Could he defy Jim? "What I want and what I have to do are two very different things." He picked up the washcloth, wiping his eyes on his arms, and very carefully began cleaning John's backside, which was smeared with blood. He winced for John, who must be in so much pain right now. "We'll get you painkillers," he promised.

             John just nodded weakly, a few more tears sliding down his face. He slumped sideways against the bathtub, eventually just falling to his side and staring emptily at the base of the toilet as Sebastian cleaned him off.

             "Jim'll be waiting," Sebastian said, pulling John as gently as he could to his feet, then lifted him into his arms so he wouldn't have to walk. John's lack of reaction deeply disturbed him. Would John ever be right again, even if he could free him? Had he made the wrong choice? Would it have been better to have let John die? He brought John back into the bedroom and laid him gently on the bed next to Jim.

             John continued his blank stare as Jim grabbed a pair of soft, leather handcuffs that he attached around John's abused wrists and then connected a rope to the chain links. He tied the cuffs firmly to the headboard, giving John enough room to turn over if he wanted, and hold his arms in front of his chest, which he did.

            “My boys...” Jim hummed, placing a kiss on John's cheek and ran a hand down over his hip before he grabbed the covers and pulled them up over them. “Night, Johnny, sleep tight! Tomorrow is the first day of your freedom. I'll take care of you now,” he murmured, running a hand through John’s hair. “Good night, Sebastian, be a good boy tonight.”

             Sebastian lay awake for a long time, and he knew that John was awake too, although John refused to look at him. Of course he would. He shivered underneath the warm blanket, then hesitantly moved a foot over to touch John's, sliding over it once.

             John stiffened slightly at Sebastian's touch, but still didn't look up to meet his eye or turn over. He was their slave now. They could do whatever they wanted to him. John was fairly certain that if he had had anything to eat that night, he would've thrown it up, right there and then.

             Sebastian felt John's foot twitch as he touched it, and quickly withdrew, inching as far to the edge of the bed as he could, turning his back to John. He wanted nothing more than to hold John right now, to comfort him. It was torment knowing that any touch from him would send John into utter revulsion.

             John didn't know how long he lay awake, staring without seeing at Sebastian's back, but when sleep finally came, by the grace of God, it was dreamless and heavy.

             When Sebastian awoke, he could feel a warm weight against him. John was curled beside him, snuggling close in his sleep. Some subconscious part of his brain must have remembered sleeping next to Sebastian. Wouldn't he be horrified when he awoke. Sebastian tried to get out of bed without waking John to spare him of the embarrassment and shame.

             It didn't work, though; the bed moved as Sebastian climbed off. That and the instant cold woke John immediately and he cringed backwards in humiliation and horror. “Sorry!” he muttered, cheeks reddening. The cuffs jingled lightly as he moved backwards, closer to Jim.

             Jim stretched and rolled toward John as he awoke. "Mmmm, _morning_ ," he sighed, then rolled over to press a long, crushing kiss into John's mouth.

             John shrunk in on himself. He opened his mouth just slightly for Jim, but made no mood to reciprocate the kiss.

            "He needs some pain killers," Sebastian said harshly from the other side of the room, where he was yanking on his trousers.

            Jim rolled his eyes. “Then go fetch them, Sebastian. We also need to prepare you a script for Sherlock and quitting your job as well, John. I'll set to work on those.”

             Sebastian glanced at John, still chained to the bed, then followed Jim out of the bedroom. "Don't you have other work to do?" he snarled. "Is this really your big scheme right now? Emotionally torturing some nobody just because I cared about him once?"

             Jim looked at him flatly. “Oh Sebastian, don't be so full of yourself. It isn't _just_ because you liked him. And I think you’re underestimating what an asset a slave will be for us. Now fetch those painkillers. I want to see that my new pet is taken care of and ready to serve as soon as possible.”

            Sebastian uncuffed John and helped him dress. He administered some painkillers, then Jim forced John to prepare them both breakfast, and Sebastian had to watch uncomfortably as John limped and fumbled around the unfamiliar kitchen, trying to scrap something together with his limited cooking skills. Jim slid a script over to John. "This is how you'll say goodbye to Sherlock. You will be wired and there will be a sniper ready at an undisclosed location, ready to shoot Mrs. Hudson or Sherlock on command. We'll have your room prepared by tomorrow, so you'll have one final night at Baker Street before you come here. You'll need to give your two weeks' notice at the clinic today, as well."

            John gave a small nod. He pushed two Spanish omelets onto plates for Sebastian and Jim to eat before he hobbled away with the piece of paper to sit in the living room, finally by himself, and read through it, a few more silent tears dripping down his face. It was a very good, convincing script, but John didn’t know if Sherlock would believe it. The man knew something was going on with him, but had thankfully been giving John his space. This, however, might raise concerns, and John didn't know if he should be glad about that or not. Could Sherlock save him? He couldn’t help hoping, but he could see no escape for his situation.

             John trudged to the flat and gave the most convincing performance he could as he delivered the story of how he was moving to Manchester as a career move. He ignored Sherlock's many questions and stuck to what Jim had told him, then began packing up his things.

            After he'd gone up to bed for his final night in the flat, Sherlock mulled all of this over. It was so unnatural—he had known there was something going on with John for a while, but the fact that John hadn’t wanted him to know gave him red flags. If John needed help, he would have asked for it. …Unless asking for help had undesirable consequences. He needed to start digging deeper.

           

            Meanwhile, Sebastian watched as a keypad entry system was installed in front of what had used to be Sebastian's bedroom. Jim explained that the bedroom and the adjoining bathroom would now be John's. "And where am I supposed to sleep?" Sebastian asked. "In there with him?" He did his best to keep the hopeful tone out of his voice. If he and John were roommates, he might get the chance to speak to John in private.

            "As if I trust you," Jim snorted. "You'll sleep in my room. If I want the bed to myself, you'll sleep on the floor, and if I want to be alone entirely, you'll sleep in your gun room. Understood?"

            Sebastian nodded curtly. He was going to have to gain Jim's trust if he was ever going to help John. He would have to show utter devotion to Jim, to the point of being jealous when Jim spent too much attention on John. Although that might encourage him more. It was difficult to predict. Everything about Jim was difficult to predict.

            John showed up at Jim's that evening with two suitcases and four boxes. It wasn't really all that much, but he didn't even know if Jim would let him keep any of it. To his surprise, Jim had shrugged it off and said that he could keep his things for an incentive for being good. John couldn't even explain was a relief it was and was horrified that he felt the urge to drop to his knees and thank Moriarty profusely. It was sick, being this happy about not having to throw all of his belongings away. As John wasn't able to carry much with his limp, Jim told Sebastian to help him carry up his things. John noted the keypad on his door with a dull throbbing in his stomach, but didn't comment on it. Instead, he started to silently unpack his things, save for a very small “thank you” to Sebastian for helping carry them up.

             Sebastian murmured a "you're welcome" and opened a box full of John's jumpers. He ran his hand over the knitted wool, wanting to steal one and bury his nose into John's smell, but he drew his hand away. "Sorry. I'll let you unpack. I don't imagine you want me touching your things," he said. John might never forgive him, but if he was as considerate as he could be when Jim's rules didn't make him do horrible things, perhaps John might come to trust him a little once more. It was a slender hope.

             John paused for a moment as he looked down into the box he was unloading. The item on top was the only good picture he had of him and Sherlock. It was right after their case in Dartmoor. John swallowed thickly and glanced over before saying softly, “You can do whatever you want...” Carefully, he took out the picture of the two of them and set it on his nightstand, gently running his fingers over the top of the frame, knowing he would never see his best friend again.

             Sebastian glanced at the picture. John probably wanted time alone. He realized with a twinge how lonely John would be from here on out. There was nobody left he could trust or turn to. He left and tromped downstairs to where Jim was working at his desk. "Well, he's settling. As much as he can do, anyway," Sebastian said. "If you treat your toys like you did last night, Jim, they'll wear out fast," he said, keeping his tone light, but rage surging just below the surface.

             Jim didn't bother looking up as he typed out an email. “ _Fascinating_ insight, Sebby. I should hire you,” he said sarcastically.

             "You hired me to be your bodyguard, to be your sniper. Not to torture my former boyfriends," Sebastian pointed out.

             “I hired you to do whatever the fuck I tell you to,” Jim said, looking up.

            “So why do you need another _slave_ , if you already have one?" Sebastian asked through clenched teeth, then swallowed. He had to keep this light. As if he didn't care about John. As if it was his own pride being wounded. "Honestly, boss, it makes me think you don't appreciate all that I do for you. Am I not good enough for you anymore?"

             Jim rolled his eyes and turned back to his email. 'You don't _pay_ slaves, Sebastian, and last time I checked, you're getting quite the hefty sum. Now run along and go kill something.” He waved vaguely at the door.

             "Kill what, Jim?" Sebastian asked, refusing to move. "Honestly, it's like you never even pay attention to me anymore."

            Jim looked up at him incredulously. “Wha—are you _jealous_ , Sebastian?' Jim asked, unsure if he was reading this correctly.

             " _No_! Why would I be jealous?' Sebastian asked, intentionally getting flustered. "I'm just—I'm underappreciated! You treat me like shit, and _I_ do everything you ask me to. I feel like I'm being shoved aside because you found a new favorite thing to play with, and it's unfair." He sounded a bit like a whiney child. Good.

             Jim looked at him, eyebrows raised, then he snorted. “Right. Okay, then. Is this because I gave up your _bedroom_?”

             "It's the bedroom, it's, 'Let's fuck Johnny,' it's you telling me to run off and kill someone. When was the last time you kissed me, Jim?" Maybe he was pushing it too far. He hoped Jim would buy it.

             Jim scowled. “Oh _shut up_! Don't act like you actually _enjoy_ anything I do to you in bed. Yes, I can make you scream like a bitch in heat, but have you ever actually _wanted_ me to? This is solely about your fucking bedroom isn't it? Keep this up and I'll give you a dog bed on the floor to sleep in. Now piss off, I'm busy!” Jim growled, eyeing him.

            Sebastian glared at Jim, then finally asked, "Who are my assignments today?"

             Jim grabbed a piece of paper from his printer and handed it to him. 'That's all. I've got meetings for the rest of the day. Don't get into any trouble, dear.' Jim stood and straightened his suit, pulling out his phone. “And don't do something foolish enough to get John's friends killed.” With that, he left.

 


	22. Master

 Sebastian looked grimly at his assignments for the day. Only two people, and one was just a sniper set-up, possibly not even a necessary kill. He gathered his supplies and left, his mind on John the whole day. How long would Jim give John to heal? How long would John be able to bear everything before he said screw it all, screw his friends and family, and kill himself? He shuddered to think of it. This was all his fault. Once off work, he returned home by mid-afternoon and went up to check on John.

             John had moved in his few possessions, arranging them carefully in the sparse space. Everything was neat and tidy except for the small, miserable man curled up under the covers, staring at the spines of his books on the shelf covering the far wall. Jim had paid him a visit earlier, before he had left, just to remind him of where his place was and the consequences of misbehaving. As if to drive home his point about how worthless John was, John had been instructed to call Jim "master" and Sebastian "sir" whenever spoken to. He heard the heavy footfalls of Sebastian enter the room, but didn't turn to look at him.

             "John? May I come in?"

             John was quiet for a moment before he said softly, “Yes, sir.”

             "Sir?" Sebastian frowned. "Jesus. Is that what Jim is having you call me now?" He felt sick to his stomach.

             John's throat felt thick. “...yes, sir...”

             Sebastian stepped over to John carefully and sank down to his knees beside John's bed. The room was fairly spacious, but bare, John's few possessions not taking up much space. There was an adjoining toilet and a well-sealed window, and the security cameras on the ceiling hadn't even been disguised. "...How are you feeling?" It was an idiotic question, but it was all Sebastian could think to ask.

             “Fine, sir,” John said, continuing in his quiet, hollow voice.

             Sebastian glanced up at the camera and lowered his voice. He wasn’t sure if there was audio in the room or not, but it was best to be on the safe side. "John, I know you, and I know you're a fighter. You survived Afghanistan, and all that other shit you went through with Sherlock. You can survive this." He couldn't tell John what he really wanted to say, which is that he was going to do everything he could to free John.

             John didn't say anything for a long time. Finally, he spoke up. “Was there something you wanted me to do for you, sir?”

             "I was about to ask whether there was anything I could do for you, John," Sebastian said. He didn't think his heart could break anymore, but John's submissive, beaten tone achieved it.

             “I'm fine, sir,” he repeated, voice dead. Why was Sebastian up here? To torment him even more? John's mind revisited the whole good cop/bad cop thing. It was working marvelously. Sebastian's obviously fake attempts to make him feel better were succeeding in making things worse. Jim really was quite an evil mastermind. John had to hand it to him.

             "John, I—you're not fine," he said firmly. "You need painkillers, yes?"

             Painkillers? For a moment, John didn't know what he needed painkillers for. It wasn't as if he could feel anything anymore. When he realized what Sebastian meant, he just pulled the blankets tighter around him, as if Sebastian was going to tackle him now and start having his way with him. But he didn't. John really only hurt a little now. He was sure there was still internal damage, but his mind wasn't there enough to linger on physical pain. “No, sir. I’m fine.”

            Sebastian stood up. He wasn't getting through to John. It was like talking to someone drained of any soul or personality. John was gone. He might not be dead, but he was gone just the same. Sebastian left with a choked, "Well, let me know," before he closed the door and collapsed in the hallway, silent sobs racking his body. The only time he'd ever cried this hard was when he'd had to tell John he didn’t love him.

            John curled tighter around himself under the covers. He wasn't sure how much time had passed, maybe five minutes, maybe an hour, maybe more, but he pulled himself from the bed, wanting a cup of tea. He didn't know if he was allowed to have any, but he'd try all the same. John didn't get his hopes up, but he crossed to pull open the door, only to find that it automatically locked from the outside. Sebastian would have to let him out. John didn't really want to run into him again, but he knocked softly on the door all the same.

             Sebastian opened it. "The door locks from the inside?" he frowned. God. He looked at the keypad. It must not be set yet. He doubted he'd get the keypad info. "Did you need something John?" He looked down at him, wanting to give him everything to make him happy.

            John didn't look up to meet Sebastian's eyes. “Can I... _may_ I...make myself a cup of tea?” He was also starving. He hadn't eaten for nearly two days. And while his stomach was empty, he didn't think he could keep anything down even if he tried.

             " _Yes_. John, yes, please, of course," Sebastian babbled, irrationally happy that he could do this one miniscule thing for John. "Do you want anything to eat? Do you need anything else?"

            “No, I'm fine, sir.” John stepped past Sebastian, eyes still down on the ground.

             "...All right," Sebastian whispered, watching him go. He heard the door open and close--Jim was home. He came down to greet him. "All right, Jim? Jobs went smoothly today."

             “Good, good,” Jim said, brushing off the information, not really interested. He absent mindedly walked into his office to set about shuffling about some papers, coming out several minutes later, his eyes glued to his phone as he meandered towards the kitchen. “And how's John getting on?” he asked, still looking at his phone.

            John glanced up as Jim walked in. He'd just finished making up his tea and it was sitting on the counter as he put away the milk. Jim grabbed the cup and started drinking out of it, and John's shoulder's sagged slightly. Jim paused a moment and looked up at him. “John? What're you doing out of your room? Go back upstairs.”             John watched forlornly as Jim sipped at his tea, but gave a small nod. “Yes, master...” he mumbled as he walked from the kitchen.

             "That was John's," Sebastian pointed out. "I told him he could make a cup for himself."

             “Well it's mine, now.”

             Sebastian bit back any harsh words. "I don't think John's eaten in a while, Jim. Is your plan for him to starve to death? Does he have enough fresh water upstairs?"

             Jim snorted, “Does he have enough _fresh water_ upstairs? He's got an entire bathroom to himself. He can drink his weight in bathwater for all I care. Did you dispose of Ranger's body?”

             "Of course," Sebastian said. "If there's nothing else, I'm off to the pub."

             Jim raised an eyebrow. “Right. Fine. Enjoy yourself.” Eyes going back down to his mobile, he wandered back off to his study, John's tea in hand.

             Sebastian grabbed his coat and a pack of unopened cigarettes. He planned to smoke until his throat was sore at one of the few pubs around that got around those anti smoking laws. Maybe he'd drink a pint or two while he was at it.

 

            After a few hours in the study, Jim knocked on John's door, then opened it. "Johnny-boy? How are you settling? Oh, this is _adorrable._ You're all moved in." He picked up the framed photo of him and Sherlock and held it up for John to see, as if he hadn't seen it before, then turned it around and smooched the image of Sherlock. "Memories are so sweet, aren't they?"

             John's brow knit together painfully as Jim picked it up, “Give it back— _please_ —“John said, already feeling desperate. If he wasn't allowed to keep his picture of Sherlock, it would be the end of him. Just that small token was enough to keep him going...for now.

             Jim raised an eyebrow. "Oooh, that's the first thing I've heard you mewl about all day," he said, setting the picture back down. "Relax, honey, we all need those little pieces of our past." He sat down next to John, his voice still gentle. "And, John...I think you're forgetting that when you refer to me, you're to call me 'Master.' Tsk, tsk, tsk. It takes a bit of learning, doesn't it? I think no dinner tonight will imprint the lesson nicely." He leaned over and kissed above John's eyebrow.

             John flexed his jaw as he looked down. He'd already forgotten. “I'm sorry... _master_ ,” he murmured, a bitter taste in his mouth. John didn't know if he could possibly be more degraded than he already was.

             "That's better, baby," Jim said, his fingertips trailing down John's cheek and across his jaw. "Johhhn...if you learn to behave yourself, life will be fairly tolerable. Strolls in the park, freedom to mill about and run errands, personal space, the perks that can come with living in a wealthy environment. But first you have to prove yourself."

             John didn’t say anything. He folded his hands in his lap and tried not to pull away from Jim's fingers.

             "And John, remember that obedience is not synonymous with dull. You _know_ how I loathe dullness. Now rest up. Read those..." he scanned John's bookshelves. "...those seafaring books of yours. Perhaps if you're good we'll get you a telly....mwah!" he kissed John's cheek and rose, straightening his suit. "Now, I've got some bus bombings to plan..."

             John's eyes widened a bit, horrified at the idea of him just sitting here unable to do anything while Jim planned bombing busses, but it was too late to say anything, the door shutting. Once Jim was gone, he looked over at the books, but couldn't bring himself to get one. Instead, he got back into his bed, pulling the covers up. He missed Sebastian, the _old_ Sebastian...the one who said he had loved him, even if it had just been a lie. John quickly wiped at his eyes as they threatened to pour over. He grabbed the picture of him and Sherlock, and set it on the pillow next to him. There had been days, weeks probably, that John and Sherlock had gone without speaking, if only because Sherlock was thinking or in a mood—but he had always been there. Now, though, the loneliness was seeping in. He had no one to be near, no one to talk to, to confide in, tell jokes with, discuss the news. Nothing. Even though Jim and Sebastian were around, John was completely alone.

             Jim left John alone the rest of the evening. Sebastian was careful to be pleasant at dinner without venturing into kiss-ass mode, or Jim would immediately be suspicious. As they got ready for bed, Sebastian asked, "Do you want me on the bed or on the floor?"

             Jim rolled his shoulders as he pulled up his pyjama bottoms. “Bed, darling. We all need a good night's rest, don't you think? Go check on Johnny, make sure he's behaving, then come straight back. I want to go to bed.”

            Sebastian knocked on John's door, then entered. John hadn't moved from the bed. "John? Do you need anything?" he asked softly.

             John didn't know how much time had passed, but he was facing away from the door still, gazing at his photo. He shook his head lightly as his eyes traced the outline of Sherlock's (for once) smiling face.

            Sebastian swallowed, nodded, then walked over and laid a hand on John's head, lightly running his fingers through his ashy hair. "Good night, John," he murmured, and left, closing the door softly behind him.

            John tensed under Sebastian's touch, not relaxing until he heard the door close.

            Jim had already crawled into bed, folding himself between the sheets. “Shut out the light. I'm tired. And don't snore or I'll shove bamboo slivers under your fingernails.”

             "Busy day?" Sebastian flicked out the light and slipped under the covers next to him. He combed his fingers through Jim's hair. "Good night, James."

             Jim was slightly suspicious at the contact, but it felt nice and he eyes closed. “Yeah...” he whined, “People are so stupid, Sebby. Why can't they all just do what I want?” he pouted against his pillow.

             "Good thing you're very persuasive," Sebastian murmured, leaning over to kiss Jim's forehead. "Knives speak louder than words."

             'Mm...at least _you're_ not a complete idiot, Sebby,” he murmured, moving a bit closer, and wrapping an arm around Sebastian to hold him like a giant teddy bear.

            "Coming from you boss, that's a pretty high complement," Sebastian said, wrapping his arms around Jim. He slid his foot up Jim's ankles. "You sure you're really tired?" He slipped his fingers into Jim's pants and traced light circles through the hair above his cock with his fingertips.

             Jim grinned a bit, eyes still closed and purred, “Oh, Sebastian, don't tempt me.”

             "Ahh, you forget how persuasive _I_ can be, James..." Sebastian smiled, pulling Jim's hand up to his mouth and kissing his thumb, then slowly drawing it into his mouth.

             Jim hummed and his eyes slid open. “God, Seb, I'm so sleepy...just...” he fought internally with himself for a moment before he pulled his thumb out, “Suck me off.”

             "Yes, sir," Sebastian said, kissing Jim's palm, then slid down till his mouth was hovered over Jim's pyjama bottoms. He bit playfully at Jim's groin, then slipping a hand in to begin stroking at Jim, coaxing him hard.

             Jim moaned softly and spread his legs apart. “Mmm...that's a good boy…” he purred.

             Once Jim was fully hard, Sebastian slowly pushed down Jim's pants and pyjamas, his lips moving down as he went.  Once he was hovering above Jim's cock, he looked up at him. "If you fall asleep during this, I'll be very put out," he said, giving a quick, flirtatious lick up Jim's cock, as if licking a Popsicle.

             Jim grinned down with him. 'You'd better make it good, then.'

             Sebastian raised an eyebrow and humphed before pulling Jim into his mouth, pushing his head down until Jim's cock was tickling the back of his throat. He kept his lips planted firmly and stroked with his tongue as he pulled out, sucking, then set back in again, beginning a rhythm.

             Jim let out a long, low moan, his fingers reaching down to curl his fingers in Sebastian's hair. “Nnnngh...”

             Sebastian breathed in heavily, beginning to move in a faster pace, letting his teeth scrape along Jim's skin. He began massaging and squeezing Jim's balls and closed his eyes tight. He wanted to pretend it was John, but he couldn't. He wanted Jim to hurt him. He deserved it. Pain would almost be a relief. He finally pulled back, and grunted, "Jim—hurt me," before setting in again and sucking hard at Jim's cock.

             Jim raised an eyebrow. He heard perfectly well, but all the same, he said, 'Come again?'

             Sebastian pulled out again, annoyed. " _Hurt me_!" He repeated. "Please," he added, a bit quieter. He set in on Jim's cock again, twisting his head so his tongue could swipe around the circumference before he pulled Jim in again, bobbing his head quickly. He dug his nails into Jim's thighs.

             Jim smirked a bit to himself before he barked, “ _On your knees on the floor_!”

             Sebastian pulled away, looking up at him in surprise before rolling out of bed and obeying. He'd expected a cursory hair-pulling, but he should haven't underestimated Jim's sadistic side. "I thought you were tired," he said sardonically, raising an eyebrow.

             “I am. This will be quick.” Jim rolled off the bed, then glanced down at him as he tugged his own bottoms off. “Strip, then get back in that position.”

             Sebastian's stomach turned. Was Jim going to fuck him? It had been months since he had, and Sebastian knew he wasn't prepared. He pushed off his pyjamas and yanked off his t-shirt until he was naked except for his dog tags, then knelt on the floor.

             As Sebastian stripped, Jim rummaged for a couple of different things in a trunk under his bed. Once he had found what he was looking for, he moved over to stand in front of Sebastian. “Get up.”

             Sebastian stood up and looked down at Jim, his jaw clenched.

             “Wrists.”

             Sebastian held them out in front of him.

             Jim took the sharpened cuffs he had made for John and snapped them into place around Sebastian's wrists. He smirked and looked up at him. “Made these especially for Johnny boy. Only got to use them on him twice, though. Pity, that. We'll have to see if we can't raise that number a bit.” Jim grabbed the chain in between them and yanked hard, pulling Sebastian behind him as he tugged him to the other side of the room.

             Sebastian let out a cry as the cuffs bit into his wrists, not having realized they were sharpened until they sliced his skin. He bit his lip as thin bloody lines appeared on his wrists.

             “Fun, aren't they?” Jim asked smirking. “John didn't seem to think they were, though. He's got such a small imagination.” Jim looked up at the ceiling where a large hook was protruding—a fairly new attachment. “Hook the chain over it.”

             Sebastian's stomach turned. Of course. That first night—John's wrists. This was what he'd used on John that first night. God. He raised his arms until the hook caught the chain and held it. It was low enough that he could move his arms up a bit to keep the metal from further slicing his skin, although if his arms grew tired, he'd have to rest it on the sharp metal. Sebastian was both sickened and impressed by Jim's endless ideas of how to cause pain.

             Jim smiled and grabbed his riding crop from where he had left it sitting on top of the trunk and sauntered back over to Sebastian. Lazily, he let the leather bit trail across the larger man's skin, flicking it here or there every once in a while. “Ooooh, Sebastian...what to do with you?”

             Sebastian arched his head back, screwed his eyes shut, and flinched as the crop flicked against his skin. Good. Yes, hurt him. Let him have something tangible to hurt, something that would hurt if he pressed it, something that would turn colors and eventually fade. He could manage that sort of wound. Anything was better than stupid, unbearable heartbreak.

             Jim started to flick the crop harder and harder against the other man's skin, watching with fascination as red blossomed over it. After a while, he moved around behind Sebastian and pressed his body against him, his hard cock pressing against Sebastian's arse. He reached his arm around so that the tip of the crop could lazily stroke at Sebastian's cock, the other tightening around Sebastian's throat, Jim's nails digging in to him. “Tell me what your feelings are _this instant_ for John Watson,” he hissed threateningly.

 


	23. Stain

Sebastian flinched and groaned as the crop struck him, every time he tried pulling away, the cuffs digging into his wrists until ribbons of red were streaming down his arms. His back, sides, and chest were all stinging by the time Jim had pressed into him, and he gasped as Jim's hand wrapped around his throat. "I—I don't feel anything for John anymore," he choked out. "He's pathetic. He's broken now. What's there to love?" He tried fruitlessly to pull away from Jim's grip, but he couldn't go anywhere, and just rocked on the balls of his feet uselessly.

             “Mmm...are you _sure_ about that, Sebby? Don't lie to me,” Jim purred with a threatening, dangerous undertone.

             Sebastian's heart hammered. Why couldn't he have just given Jim the blowjob and been done with it? He squeezed his eyes shut, fighting for breath. "I'm sure," he choked out, growling.

            Jim sighed. He wasn't sure if he believed him or not, but quite frankly, he didn't care. “If you say so, love,” he murmured, his lips brushing against the shell of Sebastian's ear. He took the crop back and then slammed it hard across Sebastian's arse. While the sting was still in full force, he dropped it, crossed the room to grab some lube, slicked himself up and returned to his place behind Sebastian. “Ready?” he asked breathily. He didn't wait for an answer though. He shoved in without any preparation.

             Sebastian let out a rough bark of pain, then clenched his teeth. He didn't want to awaken John. He panted, his chin dropping to his chest, and the blood tickled as it slid down his forearms. He hurt all over, but Jim's entrance had hurt most of all. At least he'd lubed.  "Jim—" he groaned, rising up onto the balls of his feet, trying to get used to the feeling.

             “Nnnnngh, that's it Sebby...” he said lightly, stroking Sebastian's stomach comfortingly. After a moment, Jim grabbed Sebastian's hips and started roughly thrusting up into him making loud, lewd noises.

             Sebastian grunted and moaned, his head pitching back now, until the back of his head touched the top of Jim's. He tried to maintain his footing, but with Jim slamming into him, the only thing keeping him in balance was his bound wrists. Everywhere was pain, but pleasure too, as Jim moved inside of him. It had been ages since he'd been fucked, and he pushed back against Jim eagerly. "Yes—fuck me, Jim," he found himself muttering, even as he gasped in pain. He closed his eyes and forgot about everything, about John, if only for a few blissful minutes.

             Jim grinned against Sebastian's skin. Hm...so maybe he really _was_ getting over the pathetic little army doctor in the next room. Jim moved even harder and faster as Sebastian's blood dripped down from above. He began pumping Sebastian’s cock furiously, already getting close.

             Sebastian groaned unabashedly now, feeling weak on his feet. His chest heaved as he panted in breaths, heart racing and pleasure building much quicker now. "Nnnff—James," he moaned.

             Jim's cries and moans became louder and louder before he hissed, “Come for me, Seb—“

             Sebastian rocked his hips back and forth, pushing forward into Jim's hand and then backwards into his cock, sucking in air through his bruised throat. His fingers curled above him and his toes curled against the floor and he threw his head back, the sensations and the pain and the long-forgotten dark excitement of Jim owning him completely sending him over the edge until he came with an obscene moan onto the floor. "J-James..."

             When Sebastian's muscles clenched and he yelled Jim's name, Jim shuddered and came inside of him as well. He gripped Sebastian tightly for a moment before he pulled back unsteadily, reached up to free him and leaned back against the wall. “That enough pain, darlin?”

             Sebastian nodded weakly, his knees buckling, and stumbled back to the bed, sitting on the edge of it, bleeding wrists hanging between his knees. "Y-yes, boss," he said. "Yes. Thank you."

             Jim smirked. “Always so polite...I'll be right back, lover.” Jim, still completely naked, strode out of the room and pushed John's door open. “Get up. I need you to clean up my carpet.” John had heard, if not everything, enough to know what was happening in the other room. He had feigned sleep, though there really wasn't much of a point. Slowly he rolled over and glanced up to meet Jim's eye, then trained them back at the floor.

            “Cleaning supplies in the hall closet. Hurry up before it stains. Now snap to!”             John immediately hopped up. “Yes sir,” he muttered and hurried out of the room. As Jim went to give himself a quick shower, John grabbed the items and went into Jim's room. He glanced at Sebastian on the bed, then silently scurried over to start cleaning up the semen and blood on the floor.

             "I'm sorry, John—" Sebastian murmured, trying to soak up the blood from his wrists with a bit of gauze. "I hope we didn't interrupt your sleep too much." He felt ashamed of himself now. He'd actually enjoyed himself, and it felt like an utter betrayal of John. John felt about as betrayed as he could already, of course, and even though Sebastian was doing what he was doing for John, he'd had a selfish moment where he’d wanted to forget it all, and that was that. That was as good as cheating on John.

             “You've nothing to apologize for, sir,” he mumbled at the ground. John's cheeks burned red as he scrubbed at the carpet. He wished it had been him. He wished so horribly that it had been _his_ name that Sebastian had cried out and not Jim's. He hadn't realized he had thought some part of this was a bluff, and that Sebastian really didn't sleep with Jim, really _didn't_ do whatever the man said, really _wasn’t_ completely loyal to him, but this had proved him wrong. A drop of blood dripped from the cuffs overhead, landing on John's forehead. He wiped it away, smearing it across his face, and continued to clean the carpet. When he finished he gathered the cleaning supplies back up and headed towards the door. He paused briefly to glance at Sebastian's wrists. “Would you like me to bandage that for you, sir...?” he asked quietly.

             Sebastian nodded. "If you would, John. First aid kit's in the first drawer of that chest over there.”

             John gave a small nod, set down the cleaning supplies and grabbed the kit. He hesitated before he kneeled down in front of the still naked Sebastian and very, very gently plucked up his first wrist, starting to clean it with care and precision. His hands were soft and warm as he neatly wrapped the gauze around it before moving to the next.

             Sebastian looked down at John the whole time, reveling in the feeling of John's hands on his. When John had finished, he held John's hands in his and gave them a light squeeze, then lifted John's chin with the tips of his fingers. "Thank you," he said, then before he could stop himself, he leaned in and gave John a very soft kiss on the lips.

             For the briefest of moments, John felt his lips automatically press back against Sebastian's before he realized what he was doing. He suddenly tensed, looking away and scrambled back to his feet. His cheeks reddened and he could feel tears brimming in his eyes. Not wanting Sebastian to see, he mumbled, “I'm sorry sir,“ grabbed the cleaning supplies and hurried from the room. He was just a toy to Sebastian. He'd made it clear enough, and in a moment of weakness, John had let it show how much he still wanted him. Sebastian was probably having a good laugh about how "pathetic" he was. John threw the supplies into the closet and ran into his room. He shut the door and crawled back into the safety of his bed as tears started falling again. He grabbed the picture of him and Sherlock and held it to his chest. “...Sherlock...what am I doing?” he choked out between silent sobs. Even sexually oblivious Sherlock Holmes would know how big of a fool he'd just been.

             "John—" Sebastian said after him, then walked slowly to John's room. He opened the door and saw John looking at that photograph again. "I'm sorry. I'll ask next time," he promised. "...Good night."

             John didn't know he could feel any worse, but the fact that Sebastian followed him into the room and seen the mess he was upped the humiliation ten-fold.

             Sebastian returned to bed to wait for Jim, being sure that any signs of distress or heartbreak were wiped from his face by the time he came back.

             Jim peeked over to make sure John had cleaned the carpet thoroughly, then curled into bed after flicking off the light. “Mmm...” he hummed, eyes closed as he wrapped his arms around Sebastian, “My Sebby-bear.”

             Sebastian turned around so that Jim's arms were still wrapped around him, and kissed Jim's temple, running his hand through Jim's hair. "My dark little Irish prince," he murmured. "Goodnight, your highness," he said, forcing a fond chuckle. It was so easy, slipping back into this relationship. For years and years, Jim had been all he'd ever known. He wouldn't call it love, but there was certainly an attachment there, a respect, despite all the misery Jim was now causing him and John. He would never ever forgive Jim for what he was doing to John, but he couldn't forget what an enormous role Jim played in his life.

             Jim smiled lightly against Sebastian's heated skin, easily falling to sleep, while in the next room over, after a half an hour of more tears, John managed to fall into a restless, nightmarish dreamland.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....Did I mention that I'm sorry?


	24. Truth

Over the next couple of weeks, John was slowly moved into a daily routine of preparing meals, doing a list of jobs Jim left every morning—cursory clean-up things, mostly—and occasionally one of Jim's men would come in and John would see that he was patched up properly. When he was able to be a doctor he felt the most in his element. It made sense; the in and out of the surgical needle, the application of bandages, the counting out of pills, the resetting of broken bones. He didn't much fancy the men; they were mostly unpleasant. Some swore at him when he had to hurt them to fix them, but others bore it with a quiet, empty expression, as if they too had had their soul taken from Jim, a very long time ago.

            Some nights Jim crept into John's room and slept with him, and Sebastian was left alone, wide awake and listening to the sounds. Some nights Jim made John sleep on the floor at the foot of his bed as he and Sebastian fucked. Sebastian tried not to bother John unless he had a request that wouldn't put John in an uncomfortable position, or unless Jim ordered him to do something for him. Sebastian refrained from asking about John in front of Jim, showing disinterest whenever Jim talked about his slave, but he showed jealousy when Jim touched John in front of him openly.

             One evening Jim came home and dropped into his chair in his office. “SEBASTIAN!” he called from his chair, kicking his feet up onto his desk as he shot off a couple of texts and booked a flight.

             Sebastian was in his room, reorganizing his guns. He set down his antique 12-guage, which was gorgeous but hardly ever used, and set out to see what Jim wanted. "Yeah, boss?"

             “I'm going to Croatia tonight. Won't be home for two days. I've got three hits for you over that span, all in the area. Keep Winchester on track, he's been slacking. If he gives you any trouble while I'm gone, make him number four. I trust you can keep everything under control while I'm away?”

             "Absolutely," Sebastian said, his heart skipping a beat. Alone with John. There were a dozen different spots they could go to be away from the cameras and the sound bugs. Sebastian's gun room, for instance. "Boss...can you give me John's room key code? I'll need to be able to let him out when he has to work," he pointed out casually.

             “Ugh. I suppose.” Jim scribbled it down on a post-it note and handed over the six digit number. “I'm leaving in an hour. Now go away, I've got work to do.”

             "Yes, boss. Safe travels," Sebastian said. He disappeared into the hallway and leapt with excitement as silently as he could. Alone with John! He could actually treat John like a human being for a while. He began devising an entire list of surprises and things he would do for John. He hadn't the heart to hope that John would magically start believing he wasn't a filthy liar and traitor, but if he could give John the tiniest slivers of happiness or comfort...it would be enough, at least for now.

             An hour later, as he had said, Jim was out the door, leaving John with a list of tasks for while he was gone. John looked forlornly at the long list, but started at the top, by collecting Jim's laundry from his room and starting to do his and Sebastian's wash.

             Sebastian left for his first hit, knowing it would take minimal planning and set-up, provided the sly old woman was in her usual spot this Wednesday. Before he left, he slipped a note underneath John's door.

 

_Meet me in the gun room at 8 pm tonight. -SM_

 

            John didn't notice the note until he'd finished the washing, cleaned the bathrooms, and vacuumed and dusted the entire house. By that time, he was exhausted enough to collapse onto his bed. Sebastian wasn't home and wouldn't require a meal. A small relief. He slept for a couple of hours, getting up at seven thirty. He tidied up his own room a bit, not that it needed it, and headed down to Sebastian's gun room. “Is there something I can help you with, sir?” he asked, eyes on the floor.

            Sebastian motioned him over to the couch where he was sitting and pulled out a pen and piece of paper. At the top he wrote,

 

_I’ve searched for cameras and I haven’t found any, but I can't be sure Jim hasn't bugged this room. John—how are you feeling?_

 

            John frowned a bit and picked up the paper to write his response.

 

_Fine, sir. Can I get you anything?_

 

            He didn't know what it would matter if Jim bugged the room or not.

            Sebastian eagerly took the paper back, then looked at John in disappointment. He grabbed the pen back and wrote,

 

_John, stop it. Shut up. Stop calling me “sir” when Jim's not around. I don't fucking want to hear it. I am more sorry about this situation that you can possibly know._

 

            He missed so much when John used to trust him, when John could tell him how he was feeling. Although...had that ever been the case? He'd never said about Jim, when this had all begun. He'd refused. It drove Sebastian mad.

 

He grit his teeth together, then picked up the pen again and added,

 

_Do you want to go to the park tomorrow? You haven't been outside in weeks._

 

            John opened his mouth to say "sorry, sir..." but stopped himself. He looked down at the paper in confusion and back up at Sebastian, questioningly. He hesitated for a moment before he wrote down,

 

_You don't have to do me any favors, sir. Would you like me to bring you some tea?_

 

             Sebastian shoved the paper aside, frustrated. He buried his head in his heads, resting his elbows on his knees, then pulled at his hair, wanting to yell in frustration. He finally looked over at John and stared hard into those blue eyes with his gray ones, wanting his eyes to say all of the things that John wasn't believing or understanding. He heaved a sigh and picked up John's hands, holding them warmly in his, his eyes never leaving John's. John looked so tired and so beaten, but beneath it all, somewhere deep in those blue irises, was some flicker of a spark, some tiny piece of life. Only embers, barely there, and Sebastian wanted nothing more than to kindle it back into some sort of flame.

            John's brow furrowed even more. What was Sebastian doing? He took a tiny step backward, suddenly fearful that Sebastian was going to do to him what Jim did to him when he was alone. “...what do you _want?_ ” he asked weakly, desperately.

             "I want you to believe me," Sebastian said, not letting go of John's hands and stepping closer. He pulled John over to the couch and sat him down while sitting next to him, then looked meaningfully at John, warning him not to move. He picked up his pen and paper again.

 

_Remember how you had to lie to Sherlock? Jim forced me to lie to you, John. When I told you that I was using you, all of those terrible things, I had a bug in my ear. He would have killed you or one of your friends if I'd strayed off script. I know you have no reason to believe me, John, but I'm writing here now that I'm sorry. I kept you alive because I thought it was the right thing. Maybe you would have preferred to die. I wonder what would have been better every single hour. All I know is that I would gladly die to set you free. I love you, John Watson. I have never and will never stop being utterly in love with you._

 

            Sebastian worked to keep his face from scrunching up in emotion as he wrote, and he had to turn away from the page so teardrops wouldn't drop on the page. With shaky hands, he gave the page to John, knowing he'd have to destroy it as soon as it was read.

             John eyed Sebastian as he took the piece of paper. His eyes slowly slid across each line as he read them one by one. John didn't know what to think. He was torn between anger and hatred, joy and sadness. He felt his eyes watering a bit and he looked up at Sebastian desperately. He wanted to believe it so _so_ badly...but Sebastian didn't care about him. Why would he go and sleep with Jim if that was the case? John had heard them, seen them, been in the same room on several occasions and Sebastian was not faking it. No one was that good. John searched his face for a moment before he lightly shook his head. His throat felt thick. He took the pen and wrote,

 

_I've seen you and Jim, sir._

 

            Sebastian looked at the paper, pleased that John had at the very least written back. How did he explain the complicated relationship with Jim Moriarty? How, without John, he'd turned to the only thing he knew?

 

_I don't love him._

 

            It was the absolute truth. He looked up into John's eyes.

_I have never loved him. He is a fuck partner and my boss. He is not the man I love. He is not the man I want to spend the rest of my life with._

           

            John's heart pounded. He hated this. He hated the thin tendrils of hope that were slowly starting to creep up inside him. As soon as Jim was back, he'd see them and immediately take a weed whacker to them, and John didn't think they'd ever growl back. John felt a tear slip down the side of his face. He grabbed the pen, his hand shaking.

 

_And who's the man you want to spend the rest of your life with?_

            Sebastian read the note, then looked up and said out loud, "Don't be an idiot, John." He took John's head in his hands and kissed him earnestly.

            John tried to kiss back, but he was suddenly sobbing. Tears poured down his face and he grabbed at Sebastian, pulling him closer to him. Everything that he had been bottling up over the past several weeks exploded out of him. His body shook and tears overflowed as he buried his face his Sebastian's neck.

             Sebastian grabbed John into a fierce hug, pulling him close, letting him cry out against his neck. He could feel tears beginning to spill from his own eyes, and his back heaved as he held onto John for dear life. "I love you, John," he whispered between his sobs.

            John couldn't form words for a moment, finally choking out quietly, “I—I love you too, sir—“ As "sir" spilled from his mouth, John's tears doubled and he clung even harder to Sebastian. He wasn’t alone anymore.

            The words out of John's mouth were more than Sebastian could ever hope for. "If you say 'sir' after 'I love you' again, I'm going to smack you upside the head," he laughed wetly, pulling John's face up for a long kiss. He wanted to melt into the kiss—John's lips against his. It was so right, so obvious, like he was whole again when he was kissing John. He felt stronger, lighter, with John's lips touching his. He cupped John's face as he kissed him, sobbing a bit into John's mouth, brushing away John's tears as they fell.

            John wanted to keep kissing Sebastian, but he just didn't have the mental or physical strength. He was so exhausted and drained from the past few weeks, then _this_ emotional burst on top of that—he just couldn't do it. He dropped back against Sebastian's chest, his arms loosely flung around him. He ached. All of him ached. But now, instead of a painful ache, it was the ache of his body trying to make room for hope again, for love, for feeling. He'd been nearly completely hollowed out by Jim, but things were slowly, slowly starting to come back.

            "Sleep with me tonight," Sebastian whispered. "No sex, just....just let me hold you. Please, John, could you do that?"

            Nothing had ever sounded better, and John gave a weak nod into the other man's chest.

             Sebastian gave a sigh of relief and pulled John towards him, holding him close. "I'm going to fix this," he whispered into John's hair. He wasn't sure how, but an idea was forming. He was going to have to meet with someone he severely didn't like to do it, but it would be worth it if it worked. 


	25. Alliance

Sebastian carried John to bed and pulled him next to him under the covers, wrapping his arms around him protectively. He wished he could shield him from everything forever.

            John was still fully dressed, and it was only about 8:30, but he curled against Sebastian, as close as he possibly could. He wanted to revel in the solid comfort of Sebastian’s arms around him, but he fell asleep almost immediately, exhausted.

            Sebastian watched John for a while after John had fallen asleep. He could spend the rest of his life with this man, he realized. He wanted to. He loved John. Even now that he was beaten and worn down and holding onto his soul by a thread, he loved him.

             For the first night in a month, John wasn't woken by a nightmare or the sound of Jim’s yelling. Instead, he was slowly roused by the feel of a warm body next to him and the smell of bacon and eggs. He slowly blinked awake. Not immediately remembering what had happened the night before, he stiffened as he recognized he was in Jim's bed. What had Jim done to him?

            Sebastian’s lips pressed into his shoulder. "Morning," he whispered. "You looked like you slept well." He nuzzled into John's neck.

            John relaxed immediately as the memories of last night flooded his brain and he let out a relieved, unsteady, almost terrified sob. He wasn't crying, but the crushing relief weighed him down for a moment. He pressed his palms to his eyes to gain control over himself before he turned back to him. “Morning...”

             "Hi," Sebastian said, looking him over almost in disbelief. He smoothed back John's hair with his hand. "Hey..." He sounded like an idiot. He didn't even care.

            “Hi,” John said. He scooted closer, craving Sebastian's touch. He didn't say anything for a long moment, just pressed his forehead against Sebastian's, closing his eyes while the other's fingers raked through his hair. He was terrified for when Jim came home. What if he made John sleep on the floor and watch while he fucked Sebastian again? John didn't know what he would do. “You made breakfast?”

             "Yeah," Sebastian murmured, his nose lightly touching John's. "Eggs are a bit runny and the bacon's well burnt, but I don't cook often, so take advantage." He smiled and leaned in to lightly kiss him. "You're getting thin, John." He tenderly ran his hand down John's side, where he could feel ribs where he shouldn't.

             John gave a small smile. “I don't get to eat very often,” he said dismissively. He sat up on the bed and looked over at the food and gave another small smile. The egss were indeed runny and the bacon indeed burnt. “It looks delicious.”

            “Don't lie, John," Sebastian laughed. "It's not anything good, but it's nourishment. And it's something you didn't have to make yourself." He scratched his stubble, suddenly a bit sheepish. "You're taking the day off today. Do you hear me? You are going to the park and you are going to Do Nothing. That's an order."

             Another small smile appeared on John's face. “Yes, sir.” He leaned in to give Sebastian a small kiss. “And what are you doing? Will you come?”

             "You're smiling—" Sebastian looked at in awe. "God, I missed your smile, John." If he could get John to laugh today, he'd be in heaven. "Yeah, I'll come. I have a couple errands to run today, but I don't think they'll take more than a few hours tops. And I imagine you'd like a few hours to wander by yourself and feel like a free man for a tiny amount of time. It's the least I can give you, the very least." He sat up and stretched.

             John nodded and took the tray of food, setting it between them. He picked up a fork and started to slowly pick at and eat the food. “Okay...when and where do we meet? I haven't got my phone anymore, so we'll need to have a plan.”

             "Right. The duck pond in St. James' Park, bench under the willow tree. Near the south entrance. I'll be there by noon, and I’ll bring sandwiches or something.”

             John nodded and leaned across the tray to kiss Sebastian again. He ran a hand down the side of Sebastian's face lovingly. God, what he would've given to have known that Sebastian had cared all of this time. “Duck pond, willow tree, noon.”

            “Mmmhmm," Sebastian hummed into his mouth. "I'll try not to be late." Or covered in blood. First he'd do the hit, then he'd go to his meeting. "Well, I suppose the sooner I leave, the sooner I can see you again." He was reluctant, almost afraid, to leave John alone. John would be fine in the city, of course—if he was out and about, Jim's men wouldn't have any orders to react in any sort of way. If they mentioned it to Jim, he'd explain that he'd sent John off to do some errands with a tracker ankle cuff on, since he'd been so obedient lately. Simple as that.

             John nodded. He didn't want Sebastian to go. “Is...I mean...is there anything I should be doing?” He remembered the list, and groaned. “I can't take today off. Jim's left me a list of things to do.”

             “What things?" Sebastian frowned.

             John sighed and started naming off the impossible list of items Jim had prepared for him.

             Sebastian's heart sunk. Couldn't Jim give him _one_ day off? He was running John ragged. He would talk to Jim when he got home. "How do you manage to do all of those things in one day?" he asked. "I would help you, John, but the security cameras will pick it up and it'll seem odd."

             “It's okay,” John said glumly. A day out would be _so_ nice...especially a day with Sebastian. “It's not like I have anything else to do.”

             "You have a _day with me_ that needs to happen," Sebastian growled. "FUCK! You shouldn't have to bear all of this."

             John flinched a bit, looking away. He didn't know what to say. “I...I'm sorry...sir,” he mumbled, the title falling in automatically.

             Sebastian buried his head in his hands. John was still in slave mode. He missed the John who would call him out for being arrogant, who'd snap back with some sarcastic remark, who'd grin and crack a joke. He hoped to God that that John, his John, wasn't lost forever. "I gotta go. You work on as much of that stuff as you can. When I get back, we'll sort out the rest of our day." He leaned over and kissed John's forehead, his lips lingering against the lined skin.

             He gave a small nod, glancing up. He watched as Sebastian left and sighed, feeling like a useless fool. He picked at the rest of the meal, eating most of it, then showered, did the dishes, and started about his chores.

             Sebastian impatiently tracked down the smuggler, who was luckily still sleeping in. It only took a blow to the head, a pillow to stifle the noise, and a point-blank gunshot to finish the job, then it was off to Baker Street, once he'd wiped the blood off his boots. His heart hammered as he rang the doorbell. Sherlock had been intimidating the last time he'd been here, and John had been with him then.

             Sherlock opened the door a minute later, his eyes immediately narrowing at him. “You.”

             Sebastian pulled out the cigarette he'd been smoking and ground it under his boot. "I need to talk to you about John Watson."

             Sherlock's eyes narrowed even farther, but an eyebrow went up. He took a step back and opened the door to let Sebastian in, his eyes raking over him.

             Sebastian stepped in cautiously, very aware of the gun tucked into the back of his trousers, hidden by his coat. He looked around the flat. "I'm, erm....I'm not who I said I was. I mean, I _was_ , but...." God, he'd rehearsed this over and over, but he'd never been good with words. How did he explain that he worked for Moriarty without getting arrested immediately? He'd really rather not kill Sherlock Holmes.

             Sherlock held up a hand, cutting him off as he closed the door. “Might I start by saying that if you want this conversation to continue, you should remove the gun from the back of your trousers and set it on the table over there.” He nodded at the kitchen table. “I have a general idea of who you are, Sebastian Moran. Perhaps you’re here to fill in the gaps?”

             Sebastian looked at him in surprise, then with a nervous "you-caught-me" grin, he pulled the gun out and set it on the table. He swallowed. "What's your general idea about me, Mr. Holmes?" he asked.

             Sherlock's expression remained neutral as Sebastian pulled out the gun and set it on the table. “My _general idea_ , Mr. Moran, is that you are a gunman for Jim Moriarty. You've clearly just come from a kill, you cooked bacon and eggs for breakfast, and have recently come into contact with John Watson.” Sherlock's eyes sharpened into a death glare and he added in an ice cold voice, “And if you have hurt him physically _or_ mentally, know that I will take _every_ pleasure in slitting your throat and watching your blood pool across the floor in a crimson puddle.”

             The hairs on Sebastian's arms raised. He was not easily intimidated, but this man was an exception. "I haven't hurt him. Willingly, that is. He's in a…situation, and I'm trying to get him out. Problem is, Jim has us both quite well trapped. It's beyond me, and the only person who can match Jim in wits is, well....you." He gave a grudging sigh. "So here I am, Mr. Holmes. I'm hiring you. To save John."

             Sherlock had _not_ been expecting that. A quick eyebrow raise and a lingering, expressionless look was all that gave it away though. He clasped his hands behind his back and packed across the room before gesturing to John's chair. “Well, then, Mr. Moran, I think it's time you tell me everything.”

             Sebastian sat down and explained how when he and John had met, they really hadn't know who each other were. By the time they found out, they'd developed feelings for each other and couldn't stay away from each other, even though they both knew it was wrong. He explained how Jim Moriarty had found out, and thought it would be fun to turn John into his personal slave. He steered clear of the many times John had been raped or tortured, but outlined that John had no freedom and no choice to try and escape or even to end his own life.

            "Everyone he cares about will die if he disobeys Jim, he's promised that," Sebastian said. "Including you. The thing is, I'm Jim's number two man—I've worked for him the longest, he trusts me the most, and I _still_ have no idea how deep or complex his web of workers is. I would off John’s snipers if I could, but I don't know who they are, and if I did, I wouldn't know who'd come next. You know? It's a mess. I don't even think Jim has it written down anywhere. It's all—" he tapped his forehead, "Up here. He just stores stuff like that. Well, I'm sure _you_ know," he sighed.

            Sherlock listened in silence as Sebastian spoke. He shoved down all of the emotions that tried coming bubbling to the surface. He’d known for quite some time that John was in trouble, and he had been fairly sure that Moriarty was to blame. He’d been treading lightly so far, knowing all too well how Moriarty loved setting booby traps and creating caveats. He’d enlisted Mycroft’s help, but to no avail. Moriarty was a genius at covering his tracks. Sherlock would have been love with the elegance of it all if he hadn’t been so enraged that Moriarty was doing something to keep John away and unhappy.

            A week ago he had paid the garbage man to deliver him all the rubbish set out in front of the townhouse he was fairly certain was Moriarty’s main residence, and sure enough, there were signs of John everywhere. Folded tissues from a runny nose, bits of fuzz from being shoved into his jumper's pockets, little notes, specific brands of food that John preferred. He’d puzzled over why Jim was keeping John, but once Sebastian explained, he was taken aback. He’d never dreamed that Moriarty’s interest and involvement with John went so deep.

            “You want me to untangle Jim Moriarty's web,” he stated. Saying the thought was daunting was a massive understatement, but at the same time, it was intriguing, and it would mean getting John back. “I accept, obviously.”

             Sebastian nodded. "I'll give you all the information I have. Names, profiles, schedules as far as I know them. They all know who _you_ are, I know that much." As he began listing off as much as he knew, he felt like a traitor, even though Jim had done so many unforgiveable things. What would he be without Jim? What would he do without him? Could he lead a "normal" life? Killing had been his profession for so long, he didn't know what else he was good for.

             Once Sebastian had finished, Sherlock nodded. He hadn't needed to write any of it down. He steepled his fingers against his lips and sighed. “I'll start immediately.” He paused a moment.” Don’t say anything to John about our meeting. I have no idea how long this will take me. The less he knows the better. While it will give him something to hold on to, it will also start to eat away at him the longer it takes me. He may not realize he has expectations for how long this will take, but he will and I don't want to make him wait. From what I understand of the situation, _you_ are enough to keep his hopes up for now.” Sherlock couldn't understand _how_ that was possible, but he also couldn't figure out why Sebastian would come to him unless he really did care deeply for John.

             It was good advice, but Sebastian felt a bit abashed at his comment about him keeping John's hopes up. He rose. "Whatever happens...don't let this get back to Jim."

             Sherlock scoffed. “What? Do you think we're _pen pals_? If anyone needs to worry about this getting back to Jim it's _you_.”

             Sebastian bristled. "Believe me, if Jim ever found out what I'd be doing, he would make my death last for days. I have no desire to be found out. Now. Anything else you'll be needing from me? Here's my mobile number in case you need to text. I'll have you in my phone under a false name, in case you contact me."

             “Obviously...” Sherlock watched him as the man headed towards the door, “And Sebastian...keep an eye on him for me.” He swallowed, then cleared his throat and turned to scoop up his violin. He needed to think.

            “Always," Sebastian said. He paused in the doorway. "I might not like you, Mr. Holmes, but we've got one thing in common, haven't we? And that's enough, sometimes."

            He nodded to the detective and left, hurrying home to John.

             John sat on the kitchen floor and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand before dunking the rag back into the soapy bucket of water and continuing to scrub the floor. He'd been working non-stop, hoping that he'd get ahead of the list and have a bit of time to go to the park with Sebastian, but it didn't look like that was going to happen. Of all things, he seemed to have fallen behind. He didn't want to think about what Jim would do it he didn't have everything done by the time he returned, so he sighed and mopped at the tiles with his cloth.

             Sebastian came in and heard the sound of scrubbing in the kitchen. "Hey, Cinderella. I'm back." Unsure if there were any cameras in the kitchen, he avoided pulling John to his feet and kissing him like he wanted to do. "How's the list?"

             “Neverending...” John mumbled. “It's on the counter if you want to take a look.”

             Sebastian looked it over. The list was full of time-consuming, menial tasks that looked as if they were designed specifically to keep John busy. One of the items was "dust out and reshelve the spice rack in alphabetical order." Another was, "retile the upper toilet floor."

            "What the actual fuck?" Sebastian grunted. "Well, I have an errand for you to run, and since Jim left me in charge, I'll take full responsibility for any tasks that don't get done as a result." He got out a piece of paper and began scribbling on it. "I have a great deal of shopping to do and no desire to do it myself. Also, you need to get the caulking and tiles and chisels for the toilet floor."

            He slid the note to John, which wasn't a list at all, but just the words,

_Security cameras, you know. Meet me at St. James Park in a half an hour, at the predetermined spot. We'll have an hour off._

            Aloud he said, "I have other things to do, so hurry up, for God's sake." He tried to retain a grin, then went out the door.

             “Uh...yes. Yes, sir...” John blinked at the note and shoved it in his pocket. “Right away.” John had to purse his lips so as not to smile. He hurriedly pulled on his coat and shoes, two things he hadn't worn for nearly a month, and headed out the door, a grin breaking across his face as a rare sun for London shone down on him.

 


	26. Security Cameras

            Sebastian was waiting on the bench in St. James Park when he saw a blonde-haired man walking toward him, looking lighter on his feet than he'd ever seen him.

            His heart swelled a bit as the doctor, still looking pale and wan, walked up to him and gave a shy smile. “Hello.”

            "You look amazing, John," he said, then pulled him close and kissed him deeply, for once not worried about who was watching. There were none of Jim's men here, no security cameras, no booby traps. Just John and him in the park.

            John smiled against the kiss and closed his eyes. He felt free. He pulled back, but only enough to pull Sebastian into a tight hug, resting his cheek on Sebastian’s shoulder. If he had the choice, they would just stay here, like this for the rest of the day. “...I love you.”

             Sebastian pressed his cheek against John's head and ran his fingers through John's hair. "I love you, too..."

            They stood like that for a long, long time, before Sebastian finally pulled away and revealed the lunch he'd packed—a hearty picnic of roast beef sandwiches, a cheese tray, lots of fruit, crisps, cold beers, and biscuits. He spread it out onto the blanket he'd packed. John hadn't had any quality food in ages, and when Jim did feed him, he picked at it without appetite. "Well, dig in, my dear." He spread out on the blanket and cracked open a lager. "Cheers."

             John grinned and cracked open his own. It had been ages since he'd had a proper meal, and John didn't know if he would be able to eat very much, but he dug in anyway. “God—I never knew a roast beef sandwich could taste this good,” he said through a mouthful.

            Sebastian watched John shovel the sandwich into his mouth, relieved that he had an appetite and heartbroken at how famished he was. One John had polished off the sandwich, he leaned back on the blanket, tipping his face up toward the warm sun and closing his eyes. He looked blissful. “Thanks for this, Seb.”

            "I wish it was longer than an hour," Sebastian said. "Not nearly enough time." He moved his foot out on the blanket to play with John's. "What's the first thing you'd do, if you were free?"

             John's smile faltered a bit. For a moment, it had felt like he _was_ free. “I'm not sure,” he said softly, opening his eyes to look up at the expanse of blue. He'd thought about it countless times. “Maybe grab a pint and watch a game. Maybe type up an entry on my blog...maybe see if Sherlock needs help on a case.”

            “Don’t get carried away,” Sebastian joked.

            John just smiled and shook his head. “Yeah, they seem so ordinary, don’t they? So boring…but you don’t realize all the things you miss until you can’t do them or don’t have them anymore.” He frowned to himself, thinking, then leaned over and grabbed a packet of crisps and an apple.

             Sebastian considered this, idly nudging John's foot again. He leaned back on his elbows and looked up at the sky. "I think, when all this is over—because it _will_ be over, John—I want to take you into the mountains, out of the city. Go hunting. No rules out there, John. Just nights and days and skies and game." He closed his eyes thinking about it.

            John hummed. “That's a nice thought,” he said half-heartedly. He didn't know how this could ever end...not unless Jim died, anyway, and he didn't see that happening any time soon. And even if Jim _did_ die, people were still set up to kill his friends and Harry. He gave Sebastian's foot a small nudge back. “If you ever go, you'll have to take pictures for me.”

            "I said 'we,' you berk.” Sebastian reached for his cigarette carton pulled one out, lighting it up. "You'll be coming with me." He looked over at John and said nothing more, just smoked and watched him and fell into a reverie of this being their normal lives, having lunch together in the park, talking about future trips.

             “I know what you said,” John murmured. It just wouldn't ever happen. He took another bite of his sandwich, then folded his hands behind his head, content to listen to the birds and the wind blowing through the trees, and to smell Sebastian’s cigarettes.

             The alarm on Sebastian's mobile went off far too soon. "Shit," he murmured. "Back to real life, John Watson." They packed up and headed back to the house, John going in before Sebastian so they weren't suspiciously arriving at the same time. John toiled with chores far later than he normally would have, and Sebastian tried to help in subtle ways that the camera wouldn't notice.

             When John was too tired to stay awake and to chores any longer, he hesitated before writing on a paper:

_Can we sleep together again?_

 

Sebastian scrawled back,

_Please God yes. Tonight's our last night to do it._

 

            Jim would be back tomorrow, who knew what time?

            John smiled and gave a small nod. He slipped the paper into his pocket and turned to head upstairs, but stopped outside his own door. “Seb,” he whispered, “There are cameras in my room...Jim will know I didn't spend the night here last night.”

             Sebastian considered this for a moment. Then, in a sudden motion, he grabbed John's throat and slammed him hard against the wall. He clenched his teeth and growled very quietly, "Then I'll make it look like I forced you. Jim will think I took you in for a fuck. Now look upset and I'll drag you into the bedroom."

             John's heart raced, and for a moment, he had thought it had all just been a rouse. He flinched and looked down, giving a small nod. John didn't have to try and look upset and scared. “Yes, sir...” he said hardly above a whisper.

             Sebastian swallowed, hoping John would understand, and then grabbed a fistful of his hair and dragged him to the bedroom, tossing him into the bedroom. "Strip!" he yelled, then shut the door, making sure it was sealed tightly before he said softly, "Don't strip, John. Come here." He held out his arms.

             John cowered, hesitating for a moment before he quickly crossed to Sebastian, wrapping his arms around him and burying his face in his chest, not wanting Sebastian to see the fearful tears that stung his eyes.

             "John, I'm so sorry it has to be this way," Sebastian muttered into John's hair, holding him close, and running a soothing hand down his back. He leaned down and kissed John's head, holding him for several minutes. "Well. Shall we go to bed?" he asked, keeping his arms wrapped around John.

             John didn't say anything, not really trusting his voice, but gave a small nod. He wondered if things would always be like this now. If every time Sebastian raised his voice or did anything, John would feel that horrible rush in his head and drop in his stomach, fear bubbling to the surface. He hoped not. Even if he was in this arrangement for life, he still wanted to have a separate life with Sebastian. A secret one, but he didn't know if he could ever bring himself to be back to how he was. Not here anyway. Not in this setting.

             Sebastian pulled off his shirt, changed into his pyjama bottoms, and crawled into bed, leaving a space for John. He hated that it had to be here, in Jim's bed. He hated that Jim would be back tomorrow, and this tiny sliver of freedom they'd had would be gone.

             John silently pulled off his own clothes until he was just in his boxers, not able to go back into his own room to get a pair of his pyjamas. He then crawled into bed. For a minute, he stayed far away from Sebastian, then suddenly, he was right next to him, curled against the bigger man. He grabbed the covers and pulled them up higher, wanting to cocoon himself in Sebastian's warmth. As Sebastian ran a hand along John’s arm, John murmured, “I’m sorry. …For being scared. I don’t want to be, and I didn’t mean to be.”

             "I'm convincing, John," Sebastian said softly, running his hand through John's hair now. "I know I am. World's best damn actor. It scares me because I'm worried that you'll never fully believe the truth. I love you so much, John, and it kills me inside to hurt you or scare you or threaten you." He lowered his lips to John's neck and kissed it gently. "Please believe that, John. This is the truth, right here."

             John moved a bit closer, looking up into Sebastian’s eyes. “I believe you.” Still, he wasn’t sure if he believed him because he actually did, or because he was so desperate for some hope and some fragment of happiness. “I love you, Seb.”

             "I love you, John," he whispered into John's ear, meaning every syllable, and held John close, burying his head into John's shoulder. He was crying before he could stop himself, the teardrops falling onto John's shoulder. He was so afraid that he would be forced into doing something that would leave John doubting him forever. He was so afraid for Jim's return. He was so afraid John would never recover. His teardrops dripped onto John's shoulder, and as much as he tried to keep his crying silent, it was quite obvious that he was weeping.

             The feeling of Sebastian crying behind him, sent John into another bout of tears and he turned around to look at him. He ran his hand down the side of his face, then leaned in to give him a small, lingering kiss. He didn't know what to say though, so he just moved closer to him.

             The kiss took Sebastian by surprise. He couldn't remember the last time John had initiated anything. It calmed him somewhat, and he opened his eyes to look into John's. They lay like that for some time, watching each other, Sebastian stroking John's face and hair, feeling more connected to John than he had to anyone.

             Eventually, John wiped his eyes and murmured, “We should go to bed.” He didn’t want to. He didn't want to waste the little time he had with Sebastian _sleeping_.

             "We are in bed," Sebastian grinned, smoothing back John's hair. John let out a little huff, feeling stupid.

             "I know what you mean," Sebastian said, then pulled John close into a hug, kissing his shoulder. John rested his head on Sebastian's shoulder and wrapped an arm around him, but didn't close his eyes. Even if Sebastian went to sleep, John didn't think he actually could.

             Sebastian's mind was racing about tomorrow. He'd have to give John advice on how to deal with Jim. There were definite strategies with surviving with that man that he'd picked up over the years of working for him. It could wait until morning, he decided, curling against John's warmth and holding him protectively.

            In the end, they both fell asleep, wrapped around each other. Morning came all too soon. John woke slowly, his heart sinking as he remembered that Jim was coming back today. He didn’t want to move and disturb the still-sleeping Sebastian, but when he heard Sebastian shift behind him, he turned over and asked, “When does he get back?”

            "He hasn't said yet," Sebastian said, stretching and looking sleepily over at John. "You rest here while you can, and if you come out of the bedroom, look like you're in pain. Maybe limp a little. Jim needs to think I was rough with you last night." He slid out of bed and began pulling on some fresh clothes, checking his phone, then left. He came back a few minutes later. "Jim texted. Said he'll be back by 7 pm, and he wants roast beef ready for dinner. How many chores do you have left?"

             John sighed and moved out of the bed. He bundled up his dirty clothes. “Too many to finish,” he said. “I should've woken at five like usual. Then I might’ve had a chance.” John sighed glumly and moved out of the room, limping a bit. He'd have to wash Jim's sheets now—it would have to look like they'd been soiled. There was another chore to add to his list.

            Sebastian spent the rest of the day overseeing John, wanting desperately to help as John frantically cleaned, swept, polished, laundered, sorted, and cooked, but instead watched him and occasionally barked orders. If any sound devices picked it up, it would sound like he was being a task master, but in actuality it was to coax John along so he could complete as many of the chores as he could. By the time the roast beef was in the oven, the house was tidied for the most part. Sebastian was just checking on John's work on the potatoes and carrots when Jim burst in the door.             Sebastian strode out to greet him. "Hello, boss. We missed you around here. How was Croatia?"

            John glanced up, but didn't say anything as he continued to wash dishes.

            Jim sighed in annoyance. “Croatia was a _drag_. Ordinary people often stray into the intolerable, and I accidently had them all shot.” He sighed in annoyance, “Ah well, is dinner nearly finished?” He stepped closer to Sebastian and the food, not even bothering to use it as a pretense for letting his eyes rake over Sebastian and John, trying to pick up anything that may have changed between them.

             "Very nearly. John, take your master's luggage upstairs and unpack it," Sebastian barked.

             John flinched. “Yes, sir.” He hurriedly dried his hands and grabbed Jim's bags, still limping slightly as he made his way out of the kitchen.

            Jim raised an eyebrow as John left and turned back to Sebastian, questioningly, with a hint of distaste on his face.

             Sebastian wasn’t sure what to make of Jim’s look but didn’t mention it. "John behaved himself for the most part while you were gone, enough so that I sent him out with a tracker bracelet on to do some errands around town. I took the liberty of having him while you were gone—he's hard to resist. Hope you don't mind," Sebastian said, forcing a wolfish grin.

             Jim eyed him for a moment, his eyes narrowing. “I see,” he said slowly, trying to detect any foul scent. He looked at the food, then back at Sebastian. “Have John bring mine to my office. I'll be eating and watching footage of the past two days.”

             Sebastian's heart hammered. He was glad that he had been conscientious of the footage. "Yes, boss," he murmured, then flicked his eyes up to Jim. "I did miss you, boss," he said softly, hooking a finger into Jim's collar and pulling him in for a kiss.

             Jim was still wary for a moment before he grinned into the kiss. “Mmm...missed you too, Sebby.” He pulled back and straightened his tie. “Did John finish all of his chores? ...He better have.”

             "He didn't get to the vent cleaning, because of the extra chores I gave him," Sebastian said, then gave a cheeky grin. "I also might've kept him in the bedroom later than he usually stays, so any of his failures in that sense can be blamed on me. If you watch the footage, though, you'll see he worked his tight little ass off for you. Honestly, Jim, sometimes I think you go too hard on the little guy. It's a strange world when _I_ come off as the softy..." He moved his lips down to Jim's neck and sucked on his pulse point, then gave him a biting kiss.

             Jim let the other man's lips and teeth roam over him for a minute, then suddenly pulled back and backhanded Sebastian hard across the face.  Sebastian’s head snapped to the sighed and he gasped in pain.

            Jim’s expression remained neutral, and his voice calm as red blossomed over Sebastian's cheek. “John is none of your business. Touch him again and I'll cut your cock off and shove it down your throat. Say another word to try and defend him, I'll gouge your eyes out and shove them up your arse. Understood?”

             Sebastian breathed hard, his stomach coiling in fear for John. "Perfectly," he managed. "...Let me know if you need anything else."

             Jim gave him a sickly sweet smile, an attractive ocean wave with a deadly undertow. “I'm sure I will, darling. Be a good boy now and have John fetch me my food.” He leaned forward and gave Sebastian another small kiss and then turned and headed toward his study to watch the recordings.


	27. Punishment

Sebastian's stomach turned in loathing as Jim kissed him, then headed upstairs. "Jim wants his food in his office," he said, glad to be in the safety of Jim's bedroom. "John, I tried to smooth things over, but I don't think it went very well. Just...be on your toes, all right?"

             John looked up from where he was kneeling in front of one of the cases, unpacking and putting away Jim's things. He nodded, more to calm his own nerves than to acknowledge that he’d heard and understood. He swallowed and pushed himself to his feet.

            When John left for the dining room, he dished up Jim a plate of the food,which he was rather proud of, placed it on a tray, poured a glass of wine, and then went to Jim's office. “Master? May I come in?”

             "Yes, come in," Jim said, his eyes fixed on the footage, flicking over several different cameras' footage of events at once. "Were you a good boy while I was gone, Johnny?"

             'Yes, master,' he mumbled as he made his way in and set the tray on the table. “I did as many chores as I could.”

             "As many as you _could_? Is that the _truth_ , Johnny-boy?" Jim asked, his dark eyes flitting away from the screen to fix on John as he stood up from his chair. "If I watch this footage, will I see you toiling sleeplessly to finish my list, or will I find you indulging in personal luxuries like _eating_ or _having a lie-down_?!" He was advancing on John now, a cold smile on his lips, and fury etched in his voice.

             “I...” John felt his heart starting to hammer and took a step back as Jim moved closer, “I-I needed to eat and sleep, master,” he stuttered, taking another step backwards, holding his hands out, defenselessly.

             Jim seized John's face, squeezing it painfully, and forced John's head up to look at him. "Oh, Johnny, Johnny. I'm not an _idiot_ ," he cooed as if talking to a five-year old, then he voice dropped a reptilian seethe. "I know humans need sleep and sustenance to keep going, and I intend to keep you going, Johnny _darling_ , but I devised that list so that it could be completed within the time frame provided, allowing for six hours of sleep a night and thirty minutes a day for eating." He smiled down at John, still clenching his face tightly. "AM I NOT GENEROUS?" he yelled suddenly into John's face.

             John flinched and jerked away, his eyes wide as he stumbled backwards. “I'm sorry! I'm sorry, master! Please! I tried! Sebastian wanted me to run errands—didn't he tell you?” John asked, desperately hoping that Jim would be a bit more understanding.

             "Oh, yes, he told me," Jim said, still acting as though he were talking to a simpleton. "Perhaps I didn't make it clear enough, Johnny. He's _Sir_ and I'm _Master_. Which one do you suppose outranks the other?"

            John took another step backwards. “I'm sorry! You weren't here!”

            “You won't be making that mistake again, though, _will_ you, Johnny? I'll remind Sebastian as well. Seems he needs a reminder that he is still my subordinate. I'm going to watch these tapes, John. Very very carefully. If they all come out squeaky clean and I see that you worked your _very_ hardest, I'll go easy on you tonight. If not...." his eyes went dark, then he grinned. "Well. If not, then you'll find it even harder to do your chores, after the amount of pain and humiliation I'll make you endure tonight. Now off you pop to do those dishes." He sat back in his chair and turned his attention back to the screens.

            John’s stomach dropped and his throat swelled in nerves and fear.  He found it hard to breathe. “Yes, master,” he said, fighting to keep his voice even before he turned and hurried back through the door. He kept his eyes on the ground as he moved back to the kitchen to where Sebastian was. John silently glanced over at him, then went to wash the dishes, terrified that Jim would find a slip up.

             "Are you all right?" Sebastian whispered in a barely audible voice, never turning his attention away from the drink he was mixing for himself.

            John heard him, but didn't respond, too worried that somehow Jim would know.

             Sebastian didn't ask again, but merely fixed his drink and sank into a corner chair, sipping his Manhattan with worry. After an hour, Jim came in to find the dishes done and John beginning to clean the vents. "Both of you. In the bedroom. Now. Strip when you get there. I'll be up shortly."

             “Yes, master,” John mumbled at the floor. He put down the cleaning supplies he was using and hurried up to Jim's room. There hadn't been an incident where _both_ John and Sebastian were told to strip since John's first night. His stomach churned as he climbed the stairs.

             Sebastian reached the bedroom and began peeling off his own clothes, unsure of what was coming. He heaped his clothes in the corner, watching John do the same. "John—whatever happens, remember what I said," he muttered. "That I love you."

             John just glanced over and gave a small nod, looking back to the floor. He moved by the door, where Jim had previously instructed him to wait on several occasions and sank down onto the floor and sat back on his heels, head bowed as he waited.

             Jim strode in with a whip coiled in his hands. Sebastian's stomach turned, and Jim's eyes flicked to John, kneeling in the corner. "Very _good_ , Johnny! Someone's learned," he praised. "I scanned the tapes, and it seems, Johnny boy, that you were a very good boy. Sebby, on the other hand..." he strode over and stroked the whip down Sebastian's face. "Not so obedient. Keeping John from his chores? Letting him out without my permission? Tsk, tsk, tsk. Sebastian, tie John up, strappado.."             Sebastian's stomach flopped over and he moved to John. "Stand up," he commanded, then grabbed a spreader bar and locked John's ankles in it.  He pushed John's ankles apart as far as they would go, so he was standing in an awkward straddle. He pulled John's hands behind his back and bound his wrists tightly, then his elbows, which forced John to bend forward uncomfortably. Sebastian looped a rope through John's wrists and attached it to the hook in the ceiling so that John was forced into a bent-over position, standing with his legs sprawled.

            "Gorgeous," Jim said, his eyes feasting on John's vulnerable position. "Gag or no gag? What do you think, Sebastian?" Sebastian looked over at John, thinking it might be more dignified for him if his cries were muffled. "Gagged, definitely," he said. "The slut looks better with something in his mouth." The words felt bitter and wrong on his tongue, but Jim laughed, and soon Sebastian had shoved a ball gag into John's mouth and buckled it behind his head.

             John whimpered as the gag was shoved in. He felt vulnerable and horrible. His cheeks burned furiously as he was forced to look down at the ground. His back and shoulders hurt from his arms being so tightly bound behind him. He took several deep breaths through his nose, trying to calm himself to no avail. he wanted to struggle, but he was terrified that he would loose his balance and rip his arms from their sockets, so he stayed still.

             "Now, Sebastian," Jim said in his ear. "Stand behind John, and line up your cock with his arse. That's a good boy." Once he'd obeyed, Jim lashed Sebastian's hands in front of him and yanked them up to hook them around the hook on the ceiling, right next to John's hands. He shoved Sebastian's legs apart, then back up with the whip, cracking it hard against Sebastian's skin. Sebastian yelled out in pain and surprise as his skin ripped open, and he thrust against John without meaning to, his cock pushing into John amidst it all. He pulled out as soon as he could, hoping to spare John of any pain he could.

             John winced in pain as Sebastian dry thrusted into him and let out a cry into the gag. He could hardly blame Sebastian, though. He had heard the whip and Sebastian's yell. Even though he couldn't really see what was happening, he was fully aware. John hated it. He hated _this_ and he hated _Jim_. He hated that Jim was forcing Sebastian to unintentionally rape him and there wasn't anything he could do about it.

             Jim laughed at John's cry of pain. "See what happens, Sebastian, when you undermine my authority?" Sebastian grunted, sweat running down his forehead. He had already lost his erection. Jim reached around and furiously pumped it, bringing him back to hardness, then lining his cock back up with John's. "You put you _and_ my pet's safety at risk." He cracked the whip down on Sebastian's skin again, and Sebastian yelled out, his wrists twisting in his bindings, slamming into John.

            "P-please, Jim, I'm sorry—" he moaned.

             John cried into the gag again. It hurt horribly and he could feel tears burning in his eyes. There was nothing he could do though, and so he bit down harder on the gag, willing himself to be okay.

             Jim continued to whip Sebastian as Sebastian's cock stayed embedded in John, but eventually Sebastian became too weak to even try to twitch away from the whip's blows. He could feel the blood tricking down his back. He hated what he was doing to John, but he was becoming blinded by pain. He slumped against his restraints, until Jim finally stopped whipping and cut him loose, letting him fall to the floor. "Move over, Sebby, I'll finish the job," Jim said, plastering himself against John, wrapping his arms around John. "Shhhhh, Johnny, did he hurt you? Sssoooo inconsiderate," he cooed into John's ear.

             John let out a small whimper as a response. A few tears had dripped from his eyes to the floor. He hurt, but he was sure that Sebastian was far worse off and his eyes flicked over to the slumped figure as Jim pressed against him.

             Jim smiled at John's whimper, running his hands down John's back, and kneading at John's arse. "Ohh, Johnnn," he groaned lustily. "I missed being with you, I must admit." Sebastian groaned from the ground, his hands still tied, his back on fire. Jim stuck his two fingers in his mouth, then dug them into John, hooking them deep inside of him. "Ready or not, Johnny...here I come..."

             The two fingers were unnecessary. He had already been stretched out from Sebastian and his was now bleeding, which to his horror, ended up being his only lube. John felt the tears come even faster and he tried to move his head away from Sebastian, not wanting him to see. Hopefully Jim would at least be quick about it.

             Jim leaned far over to where John was bent as he slowly pushed in. "I vivisected a dog once, John," he crooned into John's ear. "Reminded me of you. So helpless, so desperate. Trying to believe it still had some sort of chance left. Until the knife went in..." he bit John's ear roughly, drawing blood.

             The thing that John hated the most was that he agreed with him. He had nothing. Not really. He had Sebastian, sort of, and only when Jim wasn't around. He let out a muffled, choked Sob and let his head droop.

             "That's right, Johnny...there's the realization," Jim said, leaning over to stroke John's hair soothingly as he began working in and out of John roughly. Sebastian groaned again from the floor. He had forgotten how the words Jim said were almost as bad as what he did to your body. How he seemed to get inside of your mind and crawl around. He moaned desperately, and Jim kicked backwards, hitting him square in the mouth, which filled with blood. Meanwhile, Jim began thrusting into John harder, sending him rocking in his restraints, straining his shoulders against the ropes. He clutched at John's thighs, digging his nails into the skin. "Ohhh, _YES_ , Johnny!"

             John felt numb inside, even though his shoulders and back felt like they were on fire. He wanted this to be over. John stared down at the floor as he felt Jim continuously pounding in to him. John shut out the world around him. He felt himself being rocked back and forth and just couldn't bring himself to do anything. What would he do, anyway? He knew Jim couldn't understand, but all the same, he muttered into the gag, “...Just kill me...please...just kill me...”

             Jim slammed into John, his breath growing heavier and his nails digging into John's skin. He finally yanked John's head up toward, yanking it backwards, and leaned down to murmur in John's ear, "You still have a choice, John. Here with me or Bangkok. Put things in perspective and be grateful for my mercy..." He licked up John's ear, then thrust out and in once more until he was balls deep, shuddering as he came into John. Sated, he pulled out, then unhooked John's bound arms, letting him fall forward onto the ground, unable to stop his fall. John landed hard on his chest, knocking his cheekbone against the floor. Jim stepped over him and leaned down to where Sebastian was lying.

             "You'll be sleeping right where you are tonight," he said. "But don't worry...I've got a blanket to keep you warm." Jim stepped over him and returned with a thick blanket-looking thing. Sebastian squinted up at it, then began squirming away as he saw Jim was wearing gloves to handle it. It wasn't a blanket, it was fiberglass insulation.

             "Jim—please—" he muttered thickly as Jim set the fiberglass onto the floor and rolled Sebastian onto it. It was painful enough lying on his sore back, but every twitch of movement embedded thousands of tiny glass particles into his back and his wounds, making him sting and itch all over. Jim leaned over him as he cried out in pain and frustration, twitching in torment.

              "Sebby darling, remember...John is _mine_. Just because I didn't find proof on the camera doesn't mean I don't know what you're up to. I'd back off, dear, unless you _really_ want to see my wrath." He smiled down at Sebastian and then grabbed Sebastian's cast-off t-shirt, twisting it and using it to gag him tightly. "Good night, boys," he whispered as he crawled into bed, leaving them both in agony on the ground.

 


	28. Sacrifice

The gag still in his mouth, John looked across the floor at Sebastian and gave him a miserable look. He wanted to say he was sorry. This was all his fault. He should've just stayed up and done the chores. He would've been okay with no sleep for a couple of days, and now Sebastian was getting punished for it. John blinked back tears, not for his own pain, but for Sebastian’s pain. Pain he’d caused him. He paused for a moment, considering what he was about to do, then started making noise into the gag, wanting to get Jim's attention. He needed to say something, and Sebastian wouldn't like it.

             Jim sat up in annoyance, looking down at John. " _What_? You want some _more_ , you miserable piece of shit?"

             John pleaded into the gag. _Please...just let me say something..._

             With a huge, annoyed sigh, Jim got out of bed, struck John across the face, then finally unbuckled his gag. "Well, what is it? Out with it. It better be good, Johnny, because Daddy's _quite_ tired tonight."

            John looked up at him for a moment, his eyes still wet and said, voice raw, “...I want to go Thailand...”

             Sebastian made a muffled yell from behind his gag. John couldn't! He had no idea how much worse it would be there. Meanwhile Jim was staring down at him in shock. He had given him the choice, after all—he'd just never expected John to agree to it. He raised his eyebrows, looking down at John and realizing that John was completely serious. Idiot.

            Jim’s voice turned smooth and pleasant. "Very well, Johnny, I'll get the tickets. Just bear in mind that there's no coming back from there, you understand. And with you gone and out of the way, there will be no reason for me to lay off Sherlock, or anyone else close to you if they happen to fall into my larger plans. I suppose I don't blame you. It would be easier, going off far away from it all, being ignorant to what really happens to those you care about. And _Sebastian_..." Jim ran his foot over Sebastian's face, and Sebastian cried out, struggling on the floor. "What fun we'll have. No more splitting all the fun between two people. Sad, I suppose, but I'll get used to it. I've rather liked having a slave to order around. Maybe I'll just demote Sebastian to fuck toy and find another sniper so I can ruin his body _every_ night. It's time we took that step in our relationship, don't you think, Sebby?" he cooed. Tears were leaking from Sebastian's eyes as he writhed in pain on the floor. "I'll call for a ticket right now, Johnny.” Jim lightly stepped over Sebastian.

             “No....” John breathed, looking frantically over at Sebastian. Of course Jim wouldn’t make it that easy. He wasn’t going to let Sebastian suffer even more. “No—no, I'll stay—“ he choked out, his eyes locked with Sebastian's for a moment. “Just—please! Please don't hurt Sebastian anymore,” John sobbed.

            Jim raised his eyebrows, smirking. “And _why_ do you care?”

            “I love him,” John murmured out, unable to think of any lie for the question. Well, there goes that. He'd taken Sebastian's advice, he supposed. Jim could hardly consider _that_ little confession boring. And, as far as Jim knew, this was completely one-sided. As soon as that thought this, he started desperately rambling on. “Please—just stop hurting him—it wasn't his fault, it was mine—I know he doesn’t love me, but I still love him, please, master! _Please_ just help him up! I seduced him,” John practically yelled, tears streaming down his face. “I—I wanted him to want me,” he sobbed, his body raking, “but...but he doesn't.” As John choked it out, it sounded like a complete mess. Appropriate for the context. He hoped Jim believed it. John would believe himself. “Please...” John breathed, his watery eyes turning up to Jim, pleading.

             Jim looked down at John in shock and surprise for a moment, then began laughing, quietly at first, then throwing his head back. "Well, now. _THIS_ is a game-changer, isn't it, Johnny? Ohh, how it must torment you that Sebastian used and abused you...and you _still_ love him? See, this is why ordinary people are so _adorable_. They’re idiotic enough to fall in love, and the consequences are always hilarious.”

            Sebastian closed his eyes, unable to believe what John had done to himself. He swallowed back his tears and lay there, wanting to yell out the truth, unable to bear it. He bit hard into his gag and lay limply, unable to bear any of it anymore.

            "I bet you _liked_ it, didn't you, when Sebastian took you for himself? It made you think that he wanted you still, that he felt anything for you at all besides disgust mixed with base animal lust," Jim said. "Ohhh, Johnny. I'm glad you decided to stay. Life is far less interesting without you." He stepped over to John and kicked John onto his stomach, then reached down to untie John's arms and ankles. "Go clean yourself up, then get into bed.” He looked down at Sebastian. "I think you'll stay there for now, Sebby. Put Johnny in torment seeing his One True One-Sided Love trussed and in pain on the floor, you understand." Sebastian didn't respond other than a low, weak moan.

             “No…” John said through his tears. “Please—please don't leave him there, I'll do anything! Anything you want, please! Just let him up. Let me take his place, _please_!” John cried.

             "You'll do _anything_?" Jim asked. "Anything at _all_?" Sebastian made protests from the floor. He'd been in worse pain—although it was hard to think of those times right now. He wasn't going to let John do something stupid on his behalf. "Very well,” Jim said, smirking. “Go untie him and take up your usual place on the floor. I'm sure he'll be touched by the gesture," Jim smirked.

             John hurried over and as gently as he could, rolled Sebastian off of the sheet and untied his wrists. “I'm sorry...I'm so sorry, sir,” John murmured over and over. As soon as the other was free, he went to go kneel by the door.

             "Well, into bed, Sebastian," Jim said as Sebastian pulled off his gag. "Isn't it nice to feel loved?" Sebastian felt sick to his stomach. If he showed any sort of concern for John now, everything would be over. He tried to stand up and fell back onto the ground, too weak to move. "Can—can I just stay here, Jim?" he asked tiredly. "I don't think I can make it up."

             Jim rolled his eyes and chucked a pillow at him. “If you want a blanket, you can get it yourself. Try not to bleed all over my floor.”

            John felt a wave of relief crash over him. Sebastian would be okay. As long as he was permitted to clean his wounds and remove the glass soon, everything should be fine.

             "Mmm," was all Sebastian could manage, and although he didn't think he'd be able to sleep, his body took over and shut down, pitching him into a deep, dreamless sleep, away from pain for a brief while.

             John watched as Sebastian's eyes slid shut. Good. He needed rest. John hated himself for having caused Sebastian all the pain he was in. That's all John ever did. Maybe he really should just let Jim break him. Everyone, including himself, would be better off. John felt the hope that he had had from this weekend slowly draining away.

             In the morning, Jim got up promptly with his alarm clock. "Clean up the blood, wash the sheets, patch up Sebastian and get him lying somewhere comfortable so he can recuperate. Cook me poached eggs on toast, and if you do it all promptly we'll forget all about that little incident last night." Jim stood up and started dressing, then left to catch up with work.

             John had stayed kneeling in his place the whole night. He'd taken a couple short naps leaning against the wall. When he stood, he was sore and stiff, but he quickly worked out the kinks and went over to Sebastian. He gently shook him awake. “Sir? I need to clean you up, come on.” John stood from where he had been squatting and helped pull Sebastian to his feet, and then into the bathroom. His back looked horrible. The slivers of glass were too tiny to pull out. He’d need to put Sebastian in a bath with some Epsom salts, taking a break to cook for Jim, clean the blood, and throw the sheets into the washer.

             Sebastian slumped against the tub, feeling John's warm hands against his back. He heard water running in the tub behind him. "John—" he started weakly. He hurt so much. He squeezed his eyes shut. "You idiot," he finally managed out.

             John just pursed his lips and didn't say anything, just continuing to fill the tub and pour some Epsom salts into the water, letting them dissolve. “Get in the tub and it will make your back feel better. I'll be right back, I need to cook for Jim. Here.” He handed over two painkillers. “Take these while you wait.” John hurried from the room. He bundled up all of the sheets and rushed through his tasks, starting up the wash, carefully cooking the meal and hastily making sure it was perfection, then wasting no time in carrying it to Jim’s office. Luckily, Jim was on the phone, and all he did was narrow his eyes threateningly at John, before he hurried back up to Sebastian.

             Sebastian's whip wounds had started up their bleeding again, and the bathwater was now a sickly pink color. "John, do you have any idea what you've done? Do you know how much more horribly I'm going to have to treat you now that Jim knows that you love me?" he murmured. "And how the _fuck_ could you offer to go to Thailand? If you left, I would kill myself, John. That's not a threat, it's a fact," he said. His voice was bitter and full of anger, but not toward John so much as toward the whole fucked-up situation.

             “I'm not sorry,” John said in a voice barely a whisper. “I couldn't let him keep hurting you.” John swallowed as Sebastian sat up, baring his whip-striped, glass-reddened back.

             "Well, guess what he did before I ever met you, John? Where do you think I got all these scars? The war?" He laughed bitterly. "I'm used to it, John. Being a martyr's not going to do an ounce of good. _Think_ next time!" he growled in frustration.

             John flinched a bit, but didn't say anything else. He didn't care if Sebastian was mad at him. All the better, in fact. Then Sebastian wouldn’t have to pretend like he didn't care for him.

             Sebastian sighed and closed his eyes as John's unwavering hands tended to his back. "I am touched, though, John," he said softly after a few minutes' silence. "That you would suffer willingly for me. Nobody else would ever do that. I'm not worth it..."

             “Don't say that,” John murmured, re-cleaning Sebastian’s whip marks with something that he hoped would help them heal faster.

             "I would die for you, John, if that's what it took," Sebastian said softly. "I love you so much," he whispered.

             “Don't be silly,” John said. If Sebastian died, John would die to. It would pain him to die and leave Sherlock, but he had already _left_ Sherlock. He wondered if Sherlock even noticed his absence. The man had been known to talk to John even when John was absent for days.

             Sebastian winced as the wounds were cleaned. "You're the doctor. How long does it take for whip marks to heal?" he asked. He'd been caned before, beaten with a riding crop, but never whipped.

             John pursed his lips. “This is hardly something I treat on a regular basis...but I would say that they should scab up in a matter of days, then...a month? Some will take longer than others, the ones that are much deeper. I'll have to stitch up four of them.”

             "Mmm," Sebastian frowned, not liking the sound of that. He let John work silently for a bit longer. "Remember the last time you stitched me up? Just after we'd found out who we were really were? And I came into the clinic and there you were...and you stitched me up anyway." He grinned at the memory. "And I left you with the biggest hard-on when everything was finished," he laughed softly.

             John gave a little chuckle. “How could I forget? That wasn't very considerate of you.” He grinned at Sebastian's back and shook his head lightly. He'd give anything to go back to how things were before Jim had gotten involved in this whole mess.

             "I'm a bit of a bastard," Sebastian said, wondering when he'd last heard John laugh. He missed it so much. "Bet you're regretting getting mixed up with me in the first place."

             John gave a little huff of amusement and disbelief, more at himself, than anything. “I should, shouldn't I? But I don’t regret it. Not at all.” He grabbed the curved needle and thread from the medical kit and began to start sewing him up.

             "Why not?" Sebastian couldn't help but ask, flinching a little as the needle went in.

            “Because I love you,” was the only response John could think of that made any sense.

             Sebastian reached blindly behind him with his hand, seeking John's. "John...despite all of this, you have made me happier than I've ever been in my life, and I wouldn't take back any of it," he said, blinking back tears. "You've made me a better man...even though Jim forces me to a be a horrible one."

             John squeezed Sebastian's hand and flexed his jaw. He leaned his forehead of Sebastian's shoulder for a moment before he lightly kissed the back of his neck. “I don't care what he makes you do to me, all right? If he does, I know you won't have a choice, so please. Don’t feel bad.”

             "Thank you," Sebastian said, closing his eyes. He would feel bad regardless, but no need to make John fret over it. "It would kill me if you thought I meant any of it."

             John sighed and continued to stitch him up. Half an hour later, he pulled back to look over his work and gave a small nod, satisfied. “You're good to go.”

             "Go where?” Sebastian snorted. The pain had lessened with the painkillers, and John and put some sort of healing salve over the wounds that had cooled and numbed them considerably, but he still felt horrible. “I don’t feel like moving at all.” Embarrassed, he asked, "...Can you help me stand up?"

            “Of course.” John stood and moved around him, and helped him to his feet. “Here...can you lean against the wall for a moment, your blood dripped all over, let me wipe it up.”

             "Thank you," he whispered again, then wrapped a towel around himself and left the room, heading gingerly downstairs, his back aching. "Jim! We need to talk," he called.

             John watched as he walked out, then began to scrub up the blood all over the floor.

            When Sebastian walked into Jim's office, he raised an eyebrow. “Oooh dear...” he said in mock disappointment. “Johnny was supposed to make sure you were resting somewhere soft and comfortable.” Jim sighed. “I guess I'll have to punish him, and I _did_ think he would try and do a better job, now.” He stood and buttoned his suit jacket. “Perhaps a whip dipped in vinegar will jog his memory.”

             "Jim, for fuck's sake," Sebastian said, rolling his eyes to cover up his panic. "He's making up a place for me right now. I wanted to ask. Did you mean what you said, about turning me into a fuck toy if John wasn't here? Is that true?"

             Jim coolly raised his eyebrows. “Why is it any concern of _yours_? John hasn't left, so either way, you've nothing to worry about.”

             "It _is_ a concern of mine," Sebastian said, advancing on Jim. "It fucking _pisses me off_. Years of loyalty and then you threaten to turn me into a slave? If you were just doing it to threaten John, that's fine, but I want to know! Is that all I am to you?" He added a twinge of hurt to his voice.

            Jim rolled his eyes and sank back down into his chair, kicking his feet up onto his desk. “No, Sebby, darling, I didn't mean it. You're the best sniper I've got—why the hell would I ‘enslave’ you when I've already got your skills, your loyalty, and your body in the bedroom? Don't be idiotic, Sebastian, it's not becoming. Now go upstairs and rest. I've got work to do.”

            “Good," Sebastian said, pacified for the time being. "That's all I wanted to know." He stalked back upstairs and poked his head into the bathroom. "Make a place up for me to lie down, John, or Jim'll have your head."

             John nodded and grabbed some linens, remaking up Jim's bed for Sebastian, fluffing the pillows. “Here,” he said, folding back the covers for him. “Can I get you anything?”

             "I don't know if Jim'll like me dirtying his bed," Sebastian said, eyeing the sheets. The bed did look inviting, though. "I guess if I lie on my stomach and don't put the sheets over my back..." He eased himself onto the bed, letting his back breathe. "I'm all right, thanks, John. You'd best tend to your chores." He closed his eyes.

             John pursed his lips. Sebastian was probably right. Jim wouldn't like him in his bed. After Sebastian was in, John went to his own room and quickly changed the sheets, making sure it was comfortable and then went back into Sebastian. “Seb? I made up a new place for you—you're probably right, Jim won't want you in here...here, I'll help you.” He folded the covers back and held out his hand.

             Sebastian gripped John's hands and pulled himself up, then padded into John's room, settling onto his stomach once more. "Thank you, John," he whispered. "More painkillers, please?" he asked.

             John nodded and quickly went and retrieved them with a glass of water. “Here, sir,” John said, wondering if Jim was watching the cameras in this room at that very moment. John wanted to lean down and place a kiss to Sebastian's forehead, but he didn't want Sebastian to have to act annoyed or angry by it, so he simply left the room, closing the door most of the way, but not entirely so that it wouldn't automatically lock from the other side. He then went downstairs to Jim's office. “I'm done with what you asked.”

             Jim raised his eyebrow at him. "Have you, now? Very _good_ , Johnny. You know, it offends me that you would consider Bangkok a more desirable alternative than my home. Any of the misery you've suffered, you've inflicted on yourself. That's what love does to a person, John, do you see? Do you see how very foolish that is?"

             John didn't say anything, just looked away. He squeezed his hands into fists for a moment before letting them go loose again.

             Jim rose lazily from his desk and strode over to John, taking his chin in his hand. "John, John, John..." he breathed. "What am I going to do with you?" He leaned in and kissed John, pushing his mouth open with his lips. "My little lovesick kitten," he murmured into John's mouth. "I'll need to think of the perfect punishment for you." He ran his fingers through the hair at the nape of John's neck as he kissed him more deeply.

             John pulled back a bit. “But...but I didn't do anything wrong, master,” he said, more pleading, than anything.

             "I don't know, dear one...you spoiled my sleep with your pathetic little declaration of love. But you _are_ trying hard, aren't you? I should be merciful. Still, I think you should do something to make it up to me, shouldn't you? So what will you do, to make things better, John?"

             John drew a blank. He had absolutely no idea. And he was fairly certain that whatever he would say, Jim would just laugh or tell him it was inadequate, even if he proposed handing over his soul. “I..I dunno, master...”

             "Not a good answer, Johnny. Surprise me with something nice before tomorrow and maybe I'll consider the whole thing forgotten," he said. "In the meantime, complete your chores as usual. Hop to." He gave John a final kiss, then returned to his desk to work.


	29. Backfire

What was John supposed to do as a “favor” for Moriarty? He needed to ask Sebastian if he had any good ideas, because as far as John knew, the only things Moriarty liked involved massive amounts of pain and humiliation for either John or Sebastian. He wanted to avoid this.

            Sebastian was sleeping though, so John set about his daily chores, racking his brain. He still came up blank though, so when he made lunch, and brought it up to Sebastian, he left a little note on the napkin. Hopefully, Sebastian would see it. It asked if he had any ideas and that if he did, that he should take a shower and then write it on the mirror when it steamed up. John was actually rather proud of this secret way of communication, and thought that they could maybe even use it for other things as well. All he would have to do is steam up the bathroom himself, read the message, and then wipe off the mirror.

             Sebastian got the note and thought it over. He finally hauled himself up to take a shower, then wrote on the mirror, "Dress up, cook dinner, make it a date. His ego is huge. Stroke it." He looked it over. It wasn't the best advice he could give, and at this point in the game he doubted Jim would believe it if John sucked up to him, but John might play the Stockholm Syndrome card. It was worth a shot.

             A few hours later, when John had time for a small break, he went up to his room, snuck past the sleeping Sebastian and went into his bathroom to take a shower. He turned it really hot, just to steam up the room, and climbed in. He bathed quickly, then got out to read the mirror. He didn't like the thought much, but Sebastian was probably right. He wiped down the mirror, went out to his room and quietly got dressed. After that, he went downstairs to see if he could figure out something extravagant for Jim for dinner, and to finish cleaning the vents.

             Jim got absorbed in his work, typing off emails, charting current loyalties, making threats where need be, coordinating bank vault numbers and getting contacts of security guards to bribe or scare. Once evening hit, he smelled something cooking in the kitchen and came out to investigate, stretching. "What did you fix for dinner, Johnny?" he asked.

             John turned around and glanced at Jim. He had ended up having some fresh, tender, venison steaks sent over. He knew Jim liked them—he'd overheard him talking to a client on the phone and was gushing over them a few weeks ago, so he'd had them brought over special. “Venison steak, master, with sides of grilled asparagus, mashed potatoes and gravy, and a Ceasar salad.” John wasn't wearing his suit, but he was dressed up a bit nicer than usual; his standard of dress had lowered considerably since his imprisonment. “I...I thought we could have dinner together...?” he asked hesitantly.

             "Awww, _Johnny_...my favorite, how'd you know?" He leaned over to John and grabbed his chin to kiss him. "Yes, sounds perfect. You and me. Dinner." He ran his fingers over John's hair, which he'd combed back. "You look good, pet."

             John cleared his throat and gave a tight smile. 'You like it medium rare, right?' he asked.

             "Quite right," Jim said, sitting down and pouring himself some wine. "Just what I needed. Croatia was stressful. This is a welcome sight..."

             John gave a genuine, small smile then. Good, he thought to himself. At least for once he'd done _something_ right. He'd have to thank Sebastian later. John walked over and lit two candles, then began to dish out the food. “What was wrong with Croatia, master?” he asked.

             "It's all right, you don't have to pretend you're interesting in my work. It's horrifying to you, isn't it? You're bogged down with those... _moral_ things," Jim grumbled. "'No! Stop! I love him!'" He mocked John's voice. "Who puts their lives in front of someone else's? It makes no sense, it's not _logical_! No, John, you don't want to hear about Croatia. It'd upset your pretty little heart."

             John blushed a bit and looked away when Jim mocked him. “I actually was curious, master. But we don't have to talk about it if you don't want to,” he mumbled, then quietly sank into his seat and took a small sip of water, then began to eat, not looking up at Jim.

             "You're curious? Why?" Jim asked, raising an eyebrow as he cut into his venison.

             John shrugged a shoulder, still looking down. “I guess I just want to know something, _anything_ that's going on outside of your house,” he mumbled, then glanced up. “Can I get you anything else, master?”              

            "This'll do, John. Sit down and eat," Jim commanded. "I suppose it must get tiring just working around here, although I don't imagine Sherlock gave you much stimulation either. He let you trail behind him on his cases, I suppose. What would give you stimulation, John?"

             John glanced up again before starting to cut into his steak. 'I don't know, master...perhaps getting out of the house...I miss surgery, I miss cases with Sherlock. I miss my blog. I miss having internet access, watching crap telly and reading biased newspapers…” He trailed off and took a large bite of steak.

             Jim rolled his eyes. "We can get you crap telly, John, no problem. And a newspaper. And books. I doubt anything in my library would interest you, but I can send away for other things. You have been working hard at your chores, Johnny, and I appreciate it. You're close to proving yourself worthy of such luxuries. But..." he stopped to take a bite of asparagus. "I'm concerned, John, that this...love you have for Sebastian will lead you to do something idiotic."

             John's heart lightened when Jim spoke about getting him a television and a newspaper and books—he was nearly over the moon, but he was taken aback when he mentioned Sebastian. “Idiotic? Like what? How do you mean, master?”

            “Well, John, you've already proved that you'd put yourself in harm's way to ease his suffering, even though you know he doesn't feel the same way. That proves to me that your loyalties are with him, not with me. How am I ever to trust you?" he asked lightly.

             “I...but...you should be _glad_ that I wanted to protect him!” John blurted. Shit. Think.

             Jim grinned and laughed out loud. "Glad that you wanted to protect him....from _me_? Explain to me how that works, Johnny, because I fail to see the logic." He was laughing so hard that his shoulders were shaking. It all ended abruptly, however, and the next instant he was staring at John with dark eyes. "Are you fucking SERIOUS? You'd DIE for that man, and he thinks you're scum! I should just eviscerate you now and have your idiocy cleansed from my house!" He turned his attention back to his steak, and said lightly, "Care to rephrase your answer, Johnny?"

             John shrunk away from him, then sat upright. “I... _no_ ,' he said. “If I hadn't intervened, he could've bled out during the night, or his wounds would have gotten infected. He could have laid out and _died!_ You should be thankful that I didn't want anything to happen to him because you and I _both_ know that he’s your most valuable employee! If he had died, you would never have found someone as good and efficient as him! You could've killed your biggest asset last night and because I love him, _I_ SAVED HIM!' John retorted, his voice growing louder with each word. “You should _THANK_ me that I saved you from doing something _stupid_!” he yelled. He glared at Jim for a moment before he suddenly realized what he had done. Fear and panic bubbled up in him and he looked down at his plate, dropping his head. “I...I'm sorry, master, I didn't mean...I ....I'm sorry, you're right,” he stuttered quietly.

             Jim's lip twitched and he stood up. "Come here," he said, his voice low.

             John was trying desperately not to shake furiously, but was failing miserably. 'Y-yes, sir,” he said quietly, moving over to stand next to Jim, his eys on the ground.

            “Did you just _fucking_ call me 'sir'?" Jim asked, his voice so light and low that John wouldn't have heard it if he'd been standing a few steps farther back.

             “ _Master_ —master, I'm sorry—“ John choked out, terrified. His whole plan was backfiring.

             Jim grabbed John by the throat, squeezing it tightly. The other hand grabbed a fistful of John's hair yanking his head back so he felt the full force of Jim's choking grip. "Listen _very_ carefully, Johnny," he said softly, staring into John's eyes. "You fucked up. Royally. You will no longer talk to Sebastian, ever. If he asks you a question that you cannot answer with a nod or a shake of your head, you will ask me for permission to speak. If I am not around, you will wait. You will not _touch_ Sebastian unless I give you permission to." He tightened his grip even more on John's throat, watching him calmly as he began to grow weak in his hands. "You are _not_ a human being, John Watson, you are a thing, and I own you. You can be a happy thing with a comfortable life, but so far you've dug out a rather miserable existence for yourself."

             John struggled to take in a breath, his hands going up to try and pull Jim's hand away. He couldn't even _talk_ to Sebastian now? Couldn't touch him? John's heart sank and his vision started to get dark around the edges, his fighting starting to grow weaker.

            When John passed out, Jim caught the limp man and dragged him upstairs to his bedroom and stripped off his clothes. He trussed John up so that when John awoke, his arms were bound behind his head and fastened securely to the headboard. His ankles were tied with long ropes to the bedposts on either side of his shoulders, keeping his legs bent up toward his chest and wide apart from each other, making his cock and arse vulnerable.

            When John woke, his back ached and he felt exposed and humiliated. He tried to move his legs, but they were bent up and wouldn’t budge from the ropes. He wondered how long he’d been out for. He also had a throbbing headache, no doubt from the lack of oxygen.

             "So, John," Jim said, coming out of the shadows and crawling onto the bed, still in his suit.  "Is this how you envisioned the evening would go?"

             John just glared at him, not saying anything. He didn't want to give Jim the satisfaction.

             Jim raised an eyebrow at him. "Ah, I've angered you, I see. Little Johnny doesn't like getting trussed up for a fuck? Wouldn't you say you _deserved_ it, though, Johnny, after that little outburst you had?" He trailed his fingers ticklishly up the inside of John's thigh.

             John flinched a bit, but didn't say anything again. He was furious and helpless and absolutely crushed that he wouldn't even get to say anything to Sebastian ever. Not even a "yes, sir".

            “Tell me, John...when you were cooking that dinner for me...how had you intended the evening to go? Was that your plan all along? Butter me up with some fine cooking, make me think that you were being sensible for the very first time, and then call me an idiot? Did you honestly think that would end _well_ for you? Or did you have some other plan that you didn't get around to in the heat of the moment?"

             John grit his teeth but didn't say anything. He hoped that Sebastian was asleep and would remain asleep throughout the duration of all of this.

            “SPEAK WHEN YOU'RE SPOKEN TO!" Jim yelled, backhanding John hard across the face.

             John let out a small pained sound, but other than that, remained silent.

             Jim growled in frustration at John's sudden refusal to cooperate. He grabbed his phone and crawled up onto the bed, thrusting his face against John's. "Speak, John," he said in a sing-song. "Or I'll call my sniper and tell them to do away with that sister of yours. It’s not like you talk to her anyway… Or, if you prefer, I can tell them to kill Mike Stamford. Or Greg Lestrade. Hell, I'll let you choose." He hovered his finger over the call button. "Five...four..."

             At the threat, John's eyes went wide. “I hadn't meant to call you that!” he blurted, “But I'm _right_! You know I am! If Sebastian had died, you would've been furious!”

             "Do you think I don't know when somebody's breaking point is, _Doctor_ Watson?" Jim asked. "Do you think that I don't know the line between a wound and a fatal wound? I knew you'd be there to clean up the mess in the morning, and he would've lasted until then." He cocked his head to the side and considered John. "What is it about him that makes you love him? He's not the type I'd have pegged you for, Johnny." He tossed his phone on the bed and began tracing his fingertip up and down John's chest, circling his nipples and his bellybutton.

            John grit his teeth. “Because beneath it all—even if you refuse to see it or let it come out, Sebastian Moran is a decent man. He's nice, and sweet, and caring. He is _nothing_ like _you_ ,” John spat.

             Jim laughed. "Is that right?" he asked. "Is that honestly what you think? He's a good liar, John, I'll give him that, and a good actor. You stay here, sweetheart," he said, leaning up to give John a long, lewd kiss before he swung of the bed. "SEBASTIAN!" he yelled. "GET UP, NOW! YOU HAVE AN INGRATE TO FUCK!" 


	30. The Consequence

Sebastian swung himself painfully from the bed, grimacing. "Christ, John, what did you go and do?" he muttered to himself before coming out, yawning. "Jesus, Jim, what do you want??"

             John's heart sunk as he called in Sebastian. He face reddened and he looked away from the door as Sebastian walked in.

            Jim smirked. '”John here seems to think you're a ‘nice, caring, man.’ Prove him wrong,” Jim said flatly, his smile disappearing as he looked at John with loathing.

             Sebastian's stomach dropped with fear even as he cracked a wicked grin. "Right..." He hopped on the bed, stripping off his trousers. "It's been a while since I've gotten to have my way with you with an _audience_ , isn't it, John?" he said, tracing his fingers up John's chest and running them along John's lips, slowly pushing two of his fingers inside for John to suck. "And you know what, Jim? I can make him come even when he won't want to," he said, looking over at his boss. "We'll give you a very good show...won't we, John?" Before John could respond, he added two more fingers so that John was gagging.

             John choked and gagged on the fingers until they were finally removed. All the same though, as terrible as this was, being here with Sebastian was enough to start to get him hard.

             "See? The slut's already got a stiff one," Sebastian smirked. "Well, John, I'm going to make your wildest dreams come true. Mmmm, I love you baby," he said, his voice dripping with syrupy sarcasm, before he leaned in and kissed John roughly, shoving his tongue into John's throat while his hands pinched mercilessly at John's nipples.

             John let out a small whimper into Sebastian's mouth, half pained, half pleasure. It was horrible, being with Sebastian like this, but there wasn't anything either of them could do about it.

            Sebastian hated being rough with John, but at the same time, it had been so long since he'd been able to touch John in any sort of sexual way, and hearing John's moans, which didn't seem entirely miserable, hardened his cock immediately. He tried to block out Jim's laughs and stares and focused on John. It was just roleplaying. It was just a game, he kept trying to tell himself. "Jim, do you have a vibrating dildo?" he asked, beginning to stroke John's cock roughly, his other hand circling John's throat, keeping his head pinned against the headboard. John let out a little strangled noise and tried to forget about Jim's existence, trying to focus only on Sebastian.

            Jim smirked and went to grab one from the closet and tossed it at him. “There you are darling, stick it where the sun don't shine.”

             "Open wide, Johnny, this is the only lube you're getting," Sebastian said, shoving the dildo into John's mouth, moving it in and out and watching him, his hand going to tangle and yank at John's hair.

            John's eyes went wide and he gagged as the dildo was shoved in. He tried getting as much spit on it as he could. He was still sore from the previous night where Sebastian had been forced into him without even spit, and then Jim had used his own blood for lube—which had been slightly better, but not much. He whimpered, his heart pounding. This just got a lot less fun. He wanted to shake his head and plead him to use lube, but he wasn't allowed to talk and it would only make Jim laugh. _Why_?? he wanted to cry to Sebastian--Jim would've allowed lube. He yanked at his restraints, his stomach coiling.

             "Born to have a cock in his mouth, wouldn't you agree, Jim?" Jim grinned and laughed, and Sebastian forced himself to laugh along with him. This was killing him, but Jim had wanted him to prove that he wasn't nice or caring. He was going to have to hurt John, potentially to the point of injury, and he hated it. He pulled the dildo out and immediately replaced it with his mouth, kissing John roughly as he found John's hole, teasing it with his fingers for a moment before shoving the dildo all the way in.

             John cried out in pain and squeezed his eyes shut as the dildo was slammed in to him. He screwed up his face and held back a choked sob, his hands balling into fists. He could hear Jim, still laughing.

             Sebastian waited a while so John's muscles could stop spasming, then he turned the vibrator onto the lowest setting and left it inside John, rising to his knees in front of John. "You're going to suck me, pet, and you'd better make it good, or you'll pay." Sebastian's back was aching. He didn't want to be here. He hated hearing John's cries of pain. He looked away from John to grin at Jim. "Are you entertained so far, boss?"

             Jim had a faint smile on his lips. “ _So_ far, but you had better get the show on the road soon, I want that slut to learn his lesson.” Jim dropped down into a chair to watch from the corner of the room.

            John let out a strained sound of pain as the dildo was switched on. He was so tense, it didn't even feel good. As Sebastian moved closer up over him, John slowly lowered his jaw, not looking up at Sebastian. He wanted to enjoy this at least a little bit, but he couldn’t.

             Sebastian reached back and pulled the dildo out slowly, turning it to a higher setting, pushing it in slowly and angling it up so it hit John's prostate. He moved his cock up to tease it against John's mouth.

             John let out a small gasp as the dildo shoved against his prostate. He wanted this to be over. He wanted it to stop. He felt his eyes watering and he hated himself for it. He tried to blink back tears. Before Sebastian's cock went in, John couldn't help himself but say, “Please...master...I'm sorry...you were right...please, make him stop.” John's voice was strain and on the edge of breaking down, “I'm sorry...please...I'm _sorry...._ ”

             " _Shut up_ and take it," Sebastian growled, smacking John hard across the face.             Jim stood up and strode over to grab Sebastian by the back of his neck, yanking him back. "All right, Seb, the teachable moment's over. Go back to bed, have a wank, and leave us alone."

            "But boss, I never even got to—"

            "Sebastian," Jim said in a low, warning voice. Sebastian growled and stood up, yanking back on his pyjama pants, wincing as his back stretched out his marks. His tiger tattoo now had two wide stripes splitting through it. He snuck a sympathetic look at John, before returning to his bedroom, feeling awful. He wasn't going to be able to sleep after this.

             John let out a shaky, relieved sigh as Jim called Sebastian off. He would never have thought that he would actually listen to him. “Th-thank you, master,” he choked out, the dildo still rammed up inside of him.

            Jim crawled up next to him, pulling out the dildo slowly. "See, John, I can be merciful," he said, moving up to kiss John slowly. "Sebastian can be so crude, can't he?" he said, kissing John more deeply, sucking on his tongue as one hand traveled to John's cock, stroking it very gently, fingers deftly massaging his balls and prenium.

             John loathed that at the moment, he preferred Jim's touch to Sebastian's. He let out an unsteady breath and swallowed thickly and gave a small nod.

             "I'm going to give you one last chance to be a good boy, John," Jim said, moving his hand to John's ankles, which were still tightly bound apart from each other. "Don't make me regret this." He grabbed a knife from the bedside and cut his legs free, then moved up and cut off the bindings holding back John's arms and wrists. "Now, undress me, Johnny. With _care_ , if you would."

             John clenched his jaw and swallowed. He took a moment to stretch his aching muscles, but not too long. He then moved to silently kneel before Jim on the bed and began to delicately unbutton his suit jacket. He tugged it off Jim's arms, folded it lightly in half, then rested it on the bed before starting to remove Jim's silk tie, then the buttons on his shirt and his cuff links, setting them on the bed as well. John didn't look up at Jim's face as he worked, just kept doing the movements, all a bit mechanically, but carefully. Once he finished Jim's top half, he softly asked, “Master, could you please stand so I can take off the rest?”

             Jim stood, looking down at John with a faint smirk. "Remember, John, when you came to bed with me willingly? When you rode me like some sort of desperate, ferocious animal? You were so gorgeous, Johnny," he said, stroking back John's hair. "And you enjoyed yourself, didn't you? This doesn't have to be a miserable experience for you. Tonight, if you're a good boy, I'll make sure you enjoy yourself."

             John grimaced at the floor so Jim couldn't see, and gave a small nod. “Yes, master...” he mumbled as he pulled off Jim's belt, then his socks, trousers, and pants.

            As Jim stepped out of his pants, he tilted John's face up toward him. "Well, John. What do you want to do now?" he asked softly.

             John's eyes met Jim's only for a moment before he looked away. “Whatever you'd like, master.” John wanted to sleep. He wanted to go home to 221B and sleep.

             Jim was already half-hard from John undressing him. "Touch me," he commanded.

             “Wh...where?” John asked, unsure if Jim meant blow job, hand job, or just... _touching_.

             "Touch me, get me hard!" Jim barked impatiently. "However you want to, snap to!"

             John flinched, and since he was already on his knees, just moved forward to take Jim into his mouth, sucking hard.

            "Ungh!" Jim gasped as John took him in his mouth, running his hands through John's hair, yanking him in closer. "That's a good boy, John," he gasped.

             John just wanted to get through the night. Reluctantly, he decided he would do his best, but only to get Jim off so that he could curl up and sleep and forget about everything. He let his tongue slide along the underside of his cock, teasing his ferenulum, and flicking his tongue over the slit. It didn't take long before he was completely hard, and John pulled back to look up at him, waiting for his next order.

             Jim looked down at him with lusty eyes. "Get in bed," he said, crawling in hastily himself.

            John immediately did so. “How do you want me, master?”

             "Ohhh, _very_ good, Johnny. Playing the slaveboy part beautifully, aren't we?" Jim pulled the covers up over them, then rolled John onto his back and crawled on top of him, leaning down to kiss him deeply but sensitively as his hand moved to expertly stimulate and tease John's cock into hardness.

            John let the other kiss him and take the lead. He didn't say anything in response to Jim's comment, only averted his eyes, embarrassed, especially because Jim was right. His pulse started going back up as he felt Jim palming his cock. He opened his legs a bit wider and turned his head to face the door, staring at it distantly as Jim grabbed at him. He wondered if he was going to be sleeping in here tonight or what the plan was, seeing as Sebastian was in his bed.

             Jim forced John's head back toward him. "Look at me, John," he said. "Look at me, really. Look at my face, at my body. If I was just another man, just Jim from IT, would you be so upset to be with me right now? Is it really such a bad deal?" He leaned in to kiss John again, clutching at John's chest, raking his nails down it. He was straddling John now, thrusting his hips down and rubbing his cock along John's in a way that made him gasp and shudder.

             John shuddered under Jim. Yes, it would still be bad, but he didn't say anything. The only person he wanted to be with was Sebastian—and he wanted to be with him _alone_. John did as he said and looked at him, but it was more distant than anything. He was going to be here for Jim to have his way with. He'd hurry it up if he could.

             Jim grabbed both of their cocks in one hand and stroked along them both. "I'm going to see you come tonight, John," he breathed, stroking his thumb over the head of John's cock before he pumped back down. His lips moved to John's neck, kissing at the spots he'd discovered were sensitive spots for John, sucking and caressing with his lips.

             John let out a little whimper at the stimulation Jim was giving him, but he didn't say anything. He closed his eyes for a moment while Jim couldn't see his face and pretended it was Sebastian. He let out a deep breath and relaxed a bit.

             "That's it, John," Jim whispered into John's neck, kissing down to John's collarbone. He was only stroking John's cock now, rutting his own cock against the inside of John's thigh as he did so.

             “Don't talk...please...just...don't talk...” John mumbled. If Jim didn't say anything, maybe he could pretend it was Sebastian this whole time.

            Jim moved his lips up to John's so he could look down into John's eyes, still rutting against him. "Why? So you can pretend like it's your darling Sebastian making love to you?" His eyes flashed with malice for a moment, then he smiled and moved to bite and suck at John's ear. "What does he do to you that you like, Johnny? Tell me and I'll do my best to replicate..."

             John shook his head. He couldn't possibly tell Jim how domineering he was—how much he _liked_ it. It was only horrible with Jim. “Just do whatever you want,” he said miserably, not looking at him.

             "I don't like your tone, Johnny. Like you're bored of me, like I'm some nuisance you have to put up with." Jim said, stroking John's cock faster and kneading his balls with his free hand.

             John let out a strained moan and involuntarily bucked his hips up into Jim's hand, but didn't say anything else, not wanting to ruin his second chance.

             "That's it," Jim whispered quietly, then stopped talking, capturing John's mouth with his, kissing him aggressively, sucking at John's lips and moving John's legs up so he could start prodding at his hole with one finger.

             John grit his teeth when Jim poked at him. “Please— _please_ , master, can you use the lube?” he asked, unsure if he could take any more dry penetrations.

             "Yes, of course, Johnny," Jim murmured, grinning. "We've been running that little arsehole of yours ragged, haven't we?" He leaned over and slicked a generous amount over his fingers, slipping them inside of John to lubricate him thoroughly. He brushed his two fingers against John's prostate, watching him carefully. "Johnn, I have an assignment for you that's going to take you out of the house for once," he said, beginning to move his fingers in and out.

             John's breath hitched and he sighed in relief as the cold lubricant was spread inside of him—it was almost soothing. He let out a small moan as Jim pressed against his prostate. “Wh-what do you want me to do?” he asked.

             "I have to go to a fucking reception for a royal ambassador next month, and it's going to be dull, but I have some deals to make. I want you there as my arm candy. It's a black tie affair, you see..." Jim said, adding a third finger and twisting all of them around so that his knuckles brushed different places inside John.

             “Uunnggh—“ John gasped, squirming a bit, “Wh-why me? Why not Sebastian—?”

             Jim grinned down at John for a moment, loving seeing John come undone. He one-handedly slicked his free hand with lube and used it to begin stroking John's cock as his fingers worked inside of him. "Sebastian will be there, but he'll be in the background as my bodyguard and sniper. I need someone on my arm, someone to keep me company and to show everyone there that I choose my men with a bit of dignity. You, John, would brush up _very_ nicely, I think," he said softly, his hands moving a bit faster.

            John struggled to keep his breathing steady as Jim's lubed hands worked him inside and out. He would do practically anything to get out of this place, but go on a _date_ with Jim? Because that's what it essentially was, wasn't it? “Who will be there—?” he gasped. “Anyone I would know?” If that were the case, there was no way in hell he was going. It would have to be over his dead body, and he figured even Jim Moriarty wouldn't want to drag a corpse around with him at a social event.

             Jim laughed, removing his fingers. "Not unless you know any Finnish royalty or uppercrust British socialites," he said. "Don't worry, doctor, none of your _friends_ will be anywhere near this event." He lined his cock up with John, slicking it with lube before pushing very slowly inside, gasping a bit. "Mmmm, _Johnn_..." he leaned down to kiss John as he pushed further in.

             John groaned lowly. This felt _much_ better than what Sebastian had just been doing, but at the same time, John hated it because it was Jim. He closed his eyes and tipped his head back. “ _When_ next month? ...isn't _tomorrow_ next month?” he asked, having sort of lost track of the time he'd spent with Jim as all of the days were blurring together.

             "Two weeks away," Jim gasped, beginning to move in and out slowly, biting down on John's lip and dragging it out. He rarely took the time to actually "make love" and not just fuck, and he was finding it surprisingly enjoyable. John's responses made everything more interesting.

            “Ah...” John replied, then another, “ _Ah_!” came as Jim thrust up against his prostate. John's fingers curled in the sheets and said, “Well—I hate to say it, but I haven't got anything to wear—perhaps— _ah_!—you should just bring someone else—someone that you _actually_ care about, for instance—“ John squeezed his eyes shut.

             "I'll have you dressed and groomed, sweetheart," Jim panted, wishing he could bottle up John's twitches and gasps and examine them whenever he wanted. He began to suck and bite on John's ear as he started thrusting harder, beginning to shake the bed. "And what makes you think I—unghh—care about— _anyone_?" he added.

             “I'm not—saying you do—I'm just saying, you obviously don't care about _me_ —so why don't you—fuck—take someone who you don't have complete contempt for—“ John gasped and moved his hands to grip Jim's biceps, “Even if you don't like to show it—I know you care for Sebastian—so I imagine there are at least a few people out there—phhhfff—that you would rather bring over someone who's nothing more to you than a _fuck toy_ —“ John practically spat at him.

             Jim reached up and yanked back John's head by his hair, baring his throat. "I do _not_ care for Sebastian!" he growled, panting as he thrust in forcefully. "He’s a valued employee—" he stopped and shuddered as a wave of pleasure hit him. He was getting close to coming. "I want to keep him alive and loyal. That's all. And _fuck toys_ —" he punctuated the title with a particularly forceful thrust against John's prostate. "—make the very best arm candy!" Still yanking on John's hair, he leaned in and bit John on the chest, moving to suck on his nipples.

             “Nngh!” John grunted between bared teeth, “You're a _shit_ liar,” he hissed as Jim slammed against his prostate. And the more that he talked about it, the more he realized that Jim really _did_ have feelings for Sebastian, even if they were sick and twisted ones. “He's a soft spot— _that's_ the reason you didn't make him stay on the ground with glass digging into his back all night, not because _I_ asked you to let me help him, but because you could use me asking for it as an excuse to cave in—if only a little—you wanted _me_ to look like the weak one, not _you_ —God, you're twisted—is _that_ why you dislike me so much? Because at least _I_ can say I'm in love with him, but you _can't_?”

             Jim looked furious, and he thrust into John with all the more vigor, balancing his hands on John's shoulders. " _DON'T. YOU. DARE. TALK. ABOUT. THIS_ , you pathetic quivering whore!" he snarled, shaking with rage and mounting pleasure.

             John grinned up at him. Clearly he'd touched on a bit of a sore spot. “Don't lose your temper, _Jimmy_!” John snapped up at him, as he teetered on the razor's edge of an orgasm.

             Jim looped his hands around John's neck, yelling in rage that mixed with pleasure as he slammed into John, coming hard, his spasming hands flexing even tighter around John's throat. He couldn't remember the last time he'd yelled so loud during sex.

             John gasped for a breath that didn't come, but he was able to let out a strangled cry as he came in between both of their stomachs, his nails digging in to Jim's flesh.

             Still straddling him, Jim reached for his phone, panting. "This is what happens, is it, Johnny, when I loosen your leash a bit? Seems you've forgotten...the cards in my hand..." He punched in a number and waited, looking down at John, his dark eyes full of hatred. "Kill Stamford." 


	31. Bleach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. This was such a hard chapter to type up.

Jim waited for the confirmation, then hung up, turn his eyes to John, whose smugness had been instantly replaced by open-mouthed horror. "Congratulations, Johnny. Your cheek just killed an old friend. Want to try riling me up some more? Go on, then," he said, his voice dangerously low, even as he regained his breath from his orgasm.

            John's heart plummeted. He couldn’t breathe. Mike...he'd killed Mike. He'd made it this far without any casualties and in a moment of defiance, he'd ruined everything. Tears stung John's eyes and he pushed Jim off of him, scrambling off the bed and sinking to the floor, drawing his knees up to his chest. He bowed his head and sobbed. What had he _done_? Yelled a couple of stupid things. That was all. _Hope feeling smug was worth your friend's life,_ he thought bitterly as tears poured down his face. His hands knotted into his own hair as his head dropped, bawling. He absolutely hated himself. He'd been responsible for taking lives before, but they hadn't been innocents, they hadn't been _friends._

             Jim stood up and yanked John to his feet by his wrists. He dragged him down the hallway and flung him into a hallway closet. "You'll stay there for the night. I'm not having my rest disturbed," he said in a monotone voice. "In the morning you'll have a new set of rules to live by." He locked John inside and returned to his bedroom to sleep.

             John was still sobbing as the door slammed. There was hardly any room, but he was too distraught to care. It was the cleaning closet. John grabbed an old, raggedy towel from a shelf and curled up with his as he cried, the sounds not lessening at all. He wanted to die. He couldn't take this anymore. He couldn't let anyone else die because of him. There was no hope left, none. He’d heard nothing from Sherlock, Sebastian could only hurt him despite his wishes, and Jim would grind him away and break him until he crumbled. Well, Jim wasn’t going to be able to play with him anymore.

            John abruptly stopped his sobs then, the answer suddenly so clear. With a steady hand, he reached over in the dark to grab a bottle of bleach he’d used for cleaning earlier that day. If he could keep it down, it would be enough to kill him. Jim would probably already be asleep. No one would find his body till morning, and by then he'd be long gone. John, with trembling fingers, unscrewed the cap, and started to gulp it down. The taste was beyond awful. He'd gotten only two burning drinks down when he vomited, but he didn't let that stop him, and started up again. Any suffering now would be a small price for rest and an ending at long last.

             Sebastian hadn’t slept at all—he’d listened, wide-eyed and enraged, as John pleaded and Jim coaxed and they both fucked and talked and then there had been yelling, then quiet talking, then sobbing in the hallway. He heard distinctly through the cracked-open door what Jim said before he locked John into the cupboard, and he'd listened, sobbing silently on his own, as John's sobs racked through cupboard.             Sebastian was just wondering if he could sneak out and comfort John from the other side of the door when he heard the sobbing stop, then after a silence, the sound of violent vomiting. Then there had been silence, and the sound of vomiting. At the retching, Sebastian had leaped off the bed, ignoring the slicing pain in his back, and ran into the hallway.  "JOHN!" He heard gulping noises and tried to yank open the door, but Jim had locked it. "Oh my God....JIM!!! JIM, GET OUT HERE! JOHN, WHATEVER YOU'RE DOING, STOP! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, STOP IT!" He frantically kicked at the door, but it wouldn't budge. "JIM, FOR FUCK'S SAKE, UNLOCK IT!"

             Jim growled as he climbed out of bed, “What the _FUCK_ , SEBASTIAN?!” he yelled as he stormed into the hall, holding the key.

             "John's...I think he's trying to kill himself," Sebastian said, his face pale. "For FUCK'S SAKE, UNLOCK IT!" he yelled with every ounce of energy he had.

             Jim blinked at him in surprise for a moment, then sprang into action, unlocking the door and throwing it open. He grabbed the bottle and tossed it down the hall, spilling bleach across the carpet. “You little SHIT!” he yelled. “You do NOT GET TO KILL YOURSELF WITHOUT MY PERMISSION!”

            John barely heard him. His insides were on fire. He lolled out of the closet and landed on his back. He vomited again as he stared up at the ceiling, then began to choke on it, but couldn’t find the effort or motivation to move himself. What a pathetic way to die...he thought to himself as he felt Sebastian rolling him over on his stomach. He closed his eyes. He’d been on the edge of death before, but this time instead of thinking, _please, God, let me live_ , all he could think was, _please, God, let me die..._

 

             John woke up in hospital. His stomach had been pumped and neither Jim nor Sebastian was in sight. His wrists were strapped to the bed with hospital restraints and a nurse was busy checking his vitals. "Ahh, you're awake," she said. "You gave us a scare there for a while, Mr. Watson. How are you feeling?"

             John weakly opened his mouth to say something, but no sound came out. His throat was too raw. He let his head drop back and he closed his eyes. He felt like a _failure_ , that's what. He could kill his friends, but he couldn't kill himself. Pathetic.

             "We've put you on suicide watch, John," the nurse said, deep feeling in her voice. "That's why you're restrained right now. We understand you tried to take your own life. We're going to have a counselor come in today and talk to you. All right?" She reached out and squeezed his hand compassionately.

             John just averted his eyes. He had thought after all that time, he'd enjoy interacting with other people, but all it made him think of was Mike. Mike used to work in the hospital with him. He was in a hospital. Mike was probably in a morgue. John swallowed and hissed in a breath at the pain and made no move to squeeze the woman's hand back.

             "This came for you," the woman said, taking out a card and opening it, setting it on John's lap so he could read it. He recognized the hurried handwriting immediately.

 

_John--Sebastian told me what happened. I wasn't going to let you know that I knew, but I think I must. Sebastian came to me for help, and I intend to do everything I can to fix this. I am going to get you back. Don't do anything else idiotic. I'm lost without my blogger. -SH_

           

             John let out a silent sob and tears started pouring down his face again. Sherlock...Sherlock was going to try and save him. He had to figure out how to tell him not to—if Jim ever found out, John was positive that _everyone_ would die. He couldn't let that happen, especially not after Mike. As his voice wasn't working, he knocked on the bed to get the nurses' attention.

            He mimed a pen with his restrained hand and she shook her head. “I'm sorry, but I'm not allowed to give you any sharp objects.”

            John flexed his jaw and then tried miming a phone. He couldn't talk, but maybe if she handed him a mobile, he could type out a message to give to the nurse. Instead, she returned with a dry erase board and a marker.

            John felt a wave of relief. The woman unhooked his right hand and he jotted down:

 

_Can you please text this number and say: John says, 'Don't.' ?_

 

             The nurse read his note and the number below, then nodded, following his instructions without asking questions. She introduced John to a visitor, who John recognized as one of Jim's men, Dawlish. Dawlish sat in the chair to watch over John all through visitor hours, making sure he didn't try anything foolish.

 

            Meanwhile, Sebastian was trying to pull himself together back at the house, wishing like crazy that he could see John. He'd contacted Sherlock as soon as he'd been able. He texted Sherlock once more.

_When can we meet again? I need to know how the hunt is going. -SM_

_Tonight. 19.00. 43 Conduit Street. -SH_

           

            Sebastian met there at the appointed time. He had never been so happy or relieved to see Sherlock in his life. Sherlock was the only other person in the world that he could tell the truth to, besides John. He found himself babbling before long about everything that had happened—him being whipped, John being tortured, him having to torture John, and gave him an update about what he knew about John's condition.

             Sherlock listened silently, his lips pursed, his fingers steepled. Although he was a raging storm on the inside, his cool exterior gave nothing away save for an occasional nostril flare or jaw flex. Once Sebastian had finished, he gave him an update as well. “Seeing as you didn't report it to me, I assume you don't know. Mike Stamford, one of John's good friends, and I suppose, a friend of mine—he was the man who initially introduced us—was shot last night by a sniper. I can only assume Jim is to blame. I went and looked at him in the morgue this morning and gathered what information I could. There wasn't much...but there was enough for me to track down and figure out who one of the shooters is. Does the name Harry Stone mean anything to you?”

            “God..." Sebastian murmured. So _that_ was why John was a wreck. Jim had finally followed through and killed someone. He felt sick to his stomach, but pulled himself back to the question. "Harry Stone...yeah. I've partnered with him in the past."

            “He killed Stamford. Do you know if there is one gunman for all of John's friends, or are there more? No, never mind, idiotic question—Harry will have her own as she isn't in the city. And I know there’s one specifically for me. I've noticed him following me—I can give you a description but not a name.”

            “Excellent, it's a start," Sebastian murmured. Once Sherlock had described him, Sebastian nodded. "Ahhh, right, you've got Yelchin. Have fun with _him_. He's dangerous. Fellow by the name of Dawlish is in hospital keeping an eye on John until he's better. Sherlock...I don't know if John is ever going to be...right again. After all this," he said quietly, meeting Sherlock's eyes. "Is there any way you could try to see him? It might give him the strength that I can't give him anymore." It broke his heart to say that, but it was true. What solace could he offer John when he was under the boot of Moriarty as well? "Word is you're clever with disguises."

             Sherlock pursed his lips. It wasn't hard to see the mental pain Sebastian was in. “Yes. Yes, I can figure out a way. Now that he's no longer at Jim's, I will be able to get in...you should know, though, John had a text sent to me in response to a letter I wrote to him saying I knew what was happening and trying to help him. He doesn't want me to help. ...what I'm saying is that I don't know that I will be able to offer him much comfort either.”

             Sebastian hung his head. He would not cry in front of Sherlock bloody Holmes, but he felt utterly empty and useless. "I just...I want to help him. I want to make things better, and I _can't_ ," he growled, pressing his palms into his eyes.

             Sherlock was hardly one to comfort people; perhaps the only reason he made an effort now was because he also was hurting for John. He crossed over to Sebastian slowly and hesitated before he placed a hand on Sebastian's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “I’m sure John will be all right with time. He’s gone through hell and back before.”

            "You haven't _seen_ him," Sebastian said fiercely, on the verge of breaking down. "You haven't talked to him. You haven't heard him scream out, begging Jim to kill him. You haven't found him curled up in a closet, desperately drinking bleach so he could die. God, you don't even know what it's like, do you? To feel that terrible. To feel any strong emotion at all..." He couldn't look up at Sherlock or he would lose it. He would cry.

             Sherlock flexed his jaw. Sebastian was right, of course. “I'll see him. Sebastian, despite what you think, you _have_ to be there for him. I can only risk a brief visit, and that won’t be enough for him.”

             Sebastian nodded. “He needs someone he trusts. I'm there whenever I can be, but I have to show loyalty to Jim to keep us both alive, which means I can hardly ever give him the comfort I want to." He rose. "I'll be in touch. Let me know if you need more information or have a breakthrough. And Sherlock...thank you.." He gripped Sherlock's hand tightly. "Thank you," he said again.

             Sherlock gave a curt nod. He wasn't doing this for Sebastian, but as he opened his mouth to say that, he heard John's voice in the back of his head saying, " _Timing_ , Sherlock,” and so he shut it.

 

            An hour later, a tall, confident doctor with a mustache and slicked black hair stepped into John’s room, looking at Dawlish. In a gravelly, Welsh-accented voice he said, “Excuse me sir, but I'm going to ask you to leave, visiting hours are over. You can wait in the lounge if you'd like.’

             The man grunted and rose, giving the doctor a cursory glance before clearing out. Once he was gone, the doctor turned his attention to John. He peeled off his false mustache and locked the door, pacing to John’s side and kneeling by the bed. “John,” he said earnestly.

             John didn't look over. He had just _barely_ registered the door opening and closing. He had shut off. He would let the doctor do whatever he wanted to him. Maybe, if he was lucky, he'd accidently give him too many pain meds and just kill him. Maybe he could _ask_ the doctor to.  He swallowed as his eyes distantly watched the slow, steady spikes on the heart monitor. He willed it to go flat.

             Very few things genuinely scared Sherlock, but he was terrified at the sight of John. John looked dead. He looked thin, wasted away. Miserable. His eyes were staring ahead, a blank expression fixed on them, but etched inside and underneath his eyes was a terrible sadness. This was the face of someone who had seen the darkest of dark and the most miserable places. When Sherlock noticed bruises around his neck, his rage for Jim Moriarty nearly bubbled over. " _John_!" he said more sternly, shaking his best friend's shoulder.

             John blinked heavily at the feeling of the doctor shaking him and he turned to finally look at the man. It took him a moment to recognize him, but when he did, his eyes widened and he tugged at his restraints. Tears started to leak from the corners of his eyes. “Sh-Sherlock—!” he sobbed, his voice raspy and strained.

             "John—" was all Sherlock could manage for a moment. He held his hand to John's face, as if making sure he was real. "John, I'm here. I'm doing _everything I can_ to free you. Do you understand?" he said carefully.

             John shook his head weakly, but he pleaded frantically, “ _Leave_!” If Jim found him here, the repercussions would be astronomical.

             "I'm _not_ leaving," Sherlock said through clenched teeth. "Visiting hours are over, I took every precaution. I know the risks of meddling, John, and I am not an idiot. You of all people should have a bit more faith." He bit back his reprimands, running his hand through John's hair, an unusual gesture for him, but one that felt very natural given the circumstances. "Now John, is there anything you need _right now_?" He flicked his eyes down to John's wrists and back to his face.

             John choked out another sob, but shook his head. He didn't know if he was saying "no" to needing anything, "no" to if he thought Sherlock was an idiot, or "no" to Sherlock saying he wasn't leaving. Sherlock was a sight for sore eyes, though. He was a breath of fresh air and John wanted to wrap his arms around his friend and cling to him.

            “John, you...you tried to kill yourself," Sherlock said, and he had to stop, to swallow his emotions. He reached down to John's restrained hand and clasped it. "John." Sherlock finally met John's eyes once more, and he felt a deep sadness that seemed to slice all the way through him. "John, I..." What would he have done if John had succeeded in killing himself? What would he feel? How would he ever be the same again? "Don't ever do that again," he finally said, and bent to press his forehead against John's hand. "Just don't, John. Please, not ever. No matter how bad things get...I'll be finding a way out. Don't ever doubt that."

             John didn't know if he could believe that, but all the same he nodded. Not for himself, but for Sherlock. He didn't know that he had ever seen him look like this before, and it was John's fault. If he stayed alive, he hurt people. If he died, he hurt people. He couldn't win either way, so he kept his mouth shut and clasped Sherlock's hand, craving the contact.

             Sherlock stayed as long as he felt was safe, then finally rose. "I'll be in contact with Sebastian. We're very discreet." He repositioned his moustache. "In the meantime, John, try not to do anything idiotic, although in Jim Moriarty's hands, I imagine it's hard not to misstep often. The man is notoriously unpredictable. 'Changeable,' in his own words. Goodbye, John. I'll see you _soon_ ," he promised, then slipped out and disappeared from the hospital.

 


	32. A Confession and a Promise

            Sebastian was pacing back at home, trying to bury his anxiety about how John was doing. When Jim passed his way, he asked, "What's your plan with John once he's released from the hospital? He'll need to be monitored now."

             “ _Monitored_? And I suppose _you_ are volunteering to be his babysitter?”

             "No, of course not," Sebastian said, adopting a look of disgust. "I'll be out doing my _job_ , I hope! I only mean...we can't trust him alone, or he's going to try and off himself again. I _told_ you that you needed to be more careful with your toys, Jim. You play up the cruelty factor and they want to press the self-destruct button, and who can blame them? It's idiotic and irresponsible."

             Jim snarled, walked across the room and backhanded him hard. Sebastian stumbled back, clutching his face. “You do _NOT_ talk to me in that way! I can do WHATEVER THE FUCK I WANT WITH JOHN! I could fucking bring him home and slit his throat right NOW!”

             Before he knew it, Sebastian was charging at Jim, knocking him to the floor. "OVER. MY. DEAD. BODY!" His hands clutched at Jim's neck to choke him.

             Jim's eyes went wide. It didn't take longer than a split second to understand what was going on. “Sebastian—“ he hissed, “If you kill me now, John dies.” He gasped for a breath, his hands grabbing at Sebastian's around his neck.

             "Like I _care,_ " Sebastian spat, letting go of Jim's neck. But it was too late, of course. He'd snapped. He'd spilled. He would backpaddle like hell, though. He stood up. "I don't fucking care about _John_! He's _nothing_ to me! I just think you're going about this all wrong," he said, walking back towards the fireplace.

             Jim smirked and straightened his suit. “Oooh dear. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. Sebastian, what to do with you? I don't know whether to laugh or to be sick. You love John Watson, don't you?' he asked, with an undertone of shock and confusion.

             "Jim," Sebastian walked toward him, reaching out to grab his tie. "For a genius, you can be such an idiot. I love _you_ ," he said, pulled Jim toward him slowly. "Everything I've ever done...it's been for you," he murmured, pulling Jim in and kissing him passionately. He hoped he sounded convincing. He tried to put the same awed tone in his voice as when he talked to John. "I want to keep John around because he gives me an excuse to talk to you. Even if it's only about him...John was always my key to you." God, it was a flimsy lie, or so it seemed to Sebastian. He prayed that Jim would even partially believe it.

             Jim, who John had really pegged the other night, was just enough in love and desperate for Sebastian that he felt himself believing him. Jim's eyes narrowed for a minute, but as Sebastian pulled him in for a kiss, his melted against him, kissing him back. “Nnngh...Sebastian...” he breathed into the other's mouth. “Do you mean that?” If not, he'd castrate him.

             "I do..." Sebastian whispered. "I'm yours, James."

            Jim closed his eyes and gave a small, content sigh as Sebastian breathed his name. _God_ , he had wanted this. He had wanted this without being the one to initiate, and as always, he had succeeded. “Mm...” he ran his hands down to grab at Sebastian's arse. “Oh Tiger, you really are a sneaky bastard, aren't you?”

             "I've always been one to go after ones I couldn't have," Sebastian said, kissing up Jim's neck, beginning to undo his tie. "You were always telling me that sentiment was a weakness, so I tried to get over you by fucking every breathing man in London...well, that didn't work, of course. John was a momentary distraction who was exciting for being forbidden, but then he quickly became clingy and whiny and throwing around the 'L' word...I guess I said I loved him to see how you'd react, to see if I could get any sort of reaction from you..." He leaned in to kiss Jim on the lips, pulling his face close with his hands. "But you decided to fuck _him_ instead. Do you have any idea how much that cut me up, boss? Nobody's ever made me feel as wanted as you did when you owned me and ruined me completely. You're the only man I've ever begged in front of, the only man I've ever felt weak in front of. I love you, James."

            He began unbuttoning Jim's shirt, moving in to kiss him again. He'd babbled off the explanation, but he was surprised how well it fit, how much it worked. It helped that some part of him _had_ always been fascinated by Jim. What shocked him was how strongly Jim was reacting to it. Had Jim had _feelings_ for him this entire time?

             Jim watched Sebastian with slight amusement and awe. When his shirt slipped to the floor, he leaned up and bit at Sebastian's lower lip and dragged it out. At the same time his hands traveled up Sebastian's shirt. Jim let his fingers slide over the man's washboard abs, then pulled the shirt over his head before he pressed his body up against Sebastian's. He licked up his neck and dragged his teeth down his jaw, making Sebastian shiver, then he said lowly, “Get on the bed.”

             Sebastian’s breath quickened and he obeyed immediately, climbing onto the bed and waiting on his knees for orders. He hated that this felt so natural to him. He was already fully hard.

             Jim's eyes raked over him, his mouth watering at the sight. “Always so obedient,” he breathed. “What a good boy you are.” After a moment, he crossed the room and opened his trunk to pull out a single pair of leather handcuffs. He swung them around before he said, 'On your back, and strip the rest of the way.'

             Sebastian scrambled out of his trousers, pants and socks. He hoped he hadn't made a huge mistake. Jim was aroused by his confession, to be sure, but he also seemed amused. Sebastian didn't want to come off as a pathetic lovesick puppy, but if Jim bought this and respected it, he could definitely work the relationship to his and John's advantage. So long as Jim bought it wholeheartedly. He moved onto his back, watching Jim.

             “Oh kitten, look at you. You're cock's practically weeping for me. Adorable. Hands above your head.”

             Sebastian obeyed, watching Jim. "You're the only man who will _ever_ get away with calling me kitten, I hope you know," he breathed. "And even that's pushing it."

             Jim grinned and dropped the cuffs on the bed for a moment while he discarded the rest of his own clothes. “Don't act like you don't like it, dear,” Jim said. He grabbed the cuffs again once he was fully hard, then climbed up to sit astride Sebastian, and leaned forward to cuff his hands, looping the chain around a bar in the headboard first. 'How's that feel, pumpkin?'

             "You're really...going to town with the pet names tonight, aren't you, boss? Well, two can play at that game, _sugar dumpling_. Feels fine," Sebastian said, tugging at the cuffs. He wasn't going anywhere.

             Jim just giggled at the name and pinched Sebastian's nipples hard. Sebastian arched his back and let out a small, strangled cry. Jim hummed and slid backwards, then leaned forward, resting his ear on Sebastian's chest. He closed his eyes and sighed. “It beats so strongly,” he said distantly. “I could stop it, you know. Stop your heart,” he said softly, trailing his fingers lightly down Sebastian's ribs.

            Sebastian’s heart was indeed hammering in his chest, and his cock was still throbbing, bucking up to try and rub against Jim, seeking friction. "I know, boss," he breathed submissively. "My life has always been in your hands. You could squeeze my bare heart into pulp and I'd only be able to watch."

             A small smile touched Jim's lips, his eyes still closed. “How very right you are, Sebastian...you'd do well to keep that in mind.” Jim ground his hips down against Sebastian for a moment, then sat up and moved close to his head. Jim leaned forward, gabbing the headboard for balance. “Suck my cock,” he ordered flatly.

             “You old romantic,” Sebastian said dryly, but wet his lips and opened his mouth, craning his neck forward to lick along Jim's length, breathing hard. He flicked his tongue under the head and over the slit, then strained forward to take the cock in his mouth, varying the pressure of his lips and sucking hard, moaning around it. He couldn't underestimate how much Jim liked some submissive, aroused moaning, and it wasn't exactly as if he was faking it.

             “Nnnnngh...Sebasstiann...I'd almost forgotten what a talented tongue you have.” Jim's grip tightened on the headboard and he started to slowly thrust forward into Sebastian's mouth, enjoying the gagging sounds that the other emitted. “God, you're such a little slut, aren't you?”

            “Mmmmffhh," Sebastian managed, widening his jaw as far as it would go to accommodate Jim. He continued letting his tongue run wicked patterns over the veins of Jim's cock.

             Jim let out a throaty moan before he pulled back and slid until be was straddling Sebastian's hips. He ground his arse down against Sebastian's cock, letting it rub against his own hole. Digging his nails into Sebastian's collarbone, he dragged them downwards, leaving fiery red lines in their wake. He then suddenly slapped Sebastian and knotted his fingers in the other man's hair to yank his head back. “ _Who do you belong to_?” he hissed.

             "Ah!" Sebastian let out a sharp cry as Jim yanked his head back. "I belong to you, James!" he cried out, wrists straining against the cuffs.

            Jim closed his eyes and relaxed a bit, although his grip on Sebastian's hair didn't loosen. “Say it again,” he breathed, relishing in it.

             "I'm yours, James," Sebastian moaned, aroused to a frustrating point as his cock teased Jim's hole. "P-please..."he begged.

             “Mmm...” Jim hummed, eyes still closed, then he opened them a bit. “Which would you prefer, Sebby—do you want me to ride you or fuck you?”

             "Ride me, Jim..." Sebastian said, looking up at Jim with desperation. "Ride me, please, Jim!"

             Jim grinned down at him and leaned down to bite his chin, then kiss it. “Since you asked so nicely,” he purred. He reached over and grabbed the lube, slicked up a few fingers and began to work himself open, moaning lewdly at his own touch.

            "Jim....please," Sebastian whimpered. He was a desperate mess, bucking his hips up uselessly. He must look completely debilitated. Good. It wasn't hard to pull off.

             Jim smirked, and finally moved a lube-slicked hand to run over Sebastian's cock, coating it tantalizingly slowly.

             Sebastian strained hard against the cuffs, arching his head towards Jim's, moaning and whining loudly.

             After a minute or two, Jim finally positioned himself over Sebastian's cock and then began to lower himself down onto it. He tipped his head back and groaned as he was stretched open by Sebastian's girth, but kept moving until Sebastian was completely sheathed inside of him.

             Sebastian moaned, his legs shooting out straight and his toes curling into the sheets, his back arching up so his pelvis could meet Jim. "Unghh—ah! Jaaammesss—" he moaned. "James, please—“

             Jim grinned, grinding down against him gyrating before he started in at an agonizingly slow pace, rocking his hips and moving up and down.

             "J-Jim—you're the devil," Sebastian moaned, thrashing in his bonds, utterly tormented by the slow pace. He was overwhelmed by the feeling of Jim on top of him, being inside of him.

             Jim grinned and rolled his head, cracking his neck. “Want me to go faster? _Beg_ for it.”

             Sebastian looked up at him. He didn't want Jim to get bored. "Hell no," he managed, throwing his head back and biting his lips.

             Jim gave him an amused look, “Alrighty, then...we'll just see how long you can last.” Jim clenched the muscles in his arse, squeezing around Sebastian and slowed down his paced even more so, enjoying the desperate look on Sebastian's screwed up face.

             Sebastian let out a stream of curse words, twitching and moaning under Jim. "Unghh—I-I may belong to you, Jim, but I'm not your bitch," he gasped, his cock aching, needing friction.

             “Again, we'll see about that...” Jim moved all the way up, so far that only Sebastian's head was still inside him. He stayed there for a long moment before once again he started his descent again.

             "Y-you're not going to last much longer, either—" Sebastian pointed out, thrashing his head in torture against the bed. His shoulders ached from pulling at the cuffs, but he couldn't stop. He bucked up his hips violently, trying to get some sort of friction, but only succeeded in further tormenting himself.

             Jim let out a amused laugh and wrapped his hand around Sebastian’s cock, preventing him from coming. 'Oh, dear, but the point is that _you_ will come first. You're a mess, look at you... _adoooorable_...I wonder how much longer you'll last!”

             "I'm _not_ adorable," Sebastian growled, writhing beneath him. He was going to crack, though. He couldn't stand this much longer.

             “Oh, kitten, but you _are_ —fiesty little thing though you may be.” Jim's free hand went up to wrap around Sebastian's neck, as he continued at his unbearable pace.

            “Y-you’re a fine one to talk about—little.” Sebastian craned his neck back, hungry for the contact, even if it was a hand at the throat. He couldn’t take this anymore. "Jiiim..." he breathed raggedly. "P-please....I'll be your bitch, I'm your bitch, just promise me that—that you won't fuck John anymore. Please, Jim, I can't bear it! I want all of you! _Please_!" he groaned.

             Jim slowed and sank down to Sebastian's base, looking at him a bit suspiciously, his eyes narrowed. His hand tightened around his throat. “Is that the _only_ reason you don't want me fucking John?”

            "Fuck, of course," Sebastian moaned. "Please, Jim....be mine. I'm begging you...be mine alone," he asked desperately.

             Jim's lips curled up into a sneer. He bent low so that his face was right about Sebastian's. “Well, since you begged, I suppose...for now, at least.” He gave Sebastian a bruising kiss, then started slamming down onto his cock.

              Sebastian's moan into Jim's mouth was more like a yell of arousal and utter victory. _Yes_. John would be spared from this one torment, however briefly. "Ah! Unghhh!" He shouted out as Jim began violently riding him, bucking his hips up desperately to meet him. "Yes, Jim. _Yes_! Please, God, yes! More! Harder! Faster!" he whinnied frantically.

            Jim happily obliged, unable to take the slow speed anymore either. He moved as fast as he could, bouncing up at down on Sebastian and started jerking himself off as well, “Nngh! Fuck! Seb—“ he groaned as he moved, feeling himself getting closer.

             "Auuughnnghh!" Sebastian yelled. "I'm yours, Jim, I'm yours!" he yelled, sweat dripping down his forehead. He panted, looking up at Jim riding him and jerking himself off. "G-God, Jim, you're gorgeous," he moaned. "I love you, Jim." He squeezed his eyes shut, thinking guiltily of John. It was all for him, he reminded himself. The fact that he was actually enjoying himself right now just meant that Jim was a good fuck. Nothing more. Jim had always known how to drive him to ruin. "J-Jim—I'm close, I'm so close, oh God—!"

             “Then _COME_!” Jim shouted, then slammed down on him, his nails dragging down Sebastian's chest again. He couldn’t stop from coming himself, spurting onto Sebastian's stomach, tipping his head back to moan loudly.

             Sebastian felt like he was exploding inside, fireworks shooting through every nerve in his body. He gave a hoarse cry, coming inside Jim, then falling limp against the mattress, panting heavily. "Mmmmmm....." he gave a satisfied, gutteral groan and a large sigh of relief.

             Jim stayed where he was for a moment, panting before he pulled up and off of Sebastian. He then moved to flop down next to him, leaving him cuffed. He wrapped a possessive arm around him and rested his head on Sebastian's shoulder. “Mine...” he murmured.

             "Mmm..." Sebastian rested his chin on Jim's head, his heaving chest making Jim's head bob up and down. "Boss...you gotta let me out for a smoke soon," he said, straining against the cuffs. "You're so mean sometimes," he said affectionately, leaning down to bite Jim's ear.

             “Mm...smoking's a nasty habit,” he murmured. “You should quit.”

             "Don't make me list your own nasty habits, boss," Sebastian said. "Besides, I know you think I look sexy when I'm smoking, even if you hate the smell."

             Jim gave a little chuckle. “Fair enough.” He slid his hand down Sebastian's chest, his finger trailing through the semen. He lifted it to Sebastian's lips. Sebastian licked it off and sucked hard on Jim's finger, his eyes closing.

             Jim gave another faint smile, then reluctantly reached his hands up and unlocked Sebastian. “Hurry back, dear. We've got a busy evening.”

             Sebastian rubbed his raw wrists, then padded downstairs, still naked, to smoke out the window, looking out into the dark sky, thinking about John in hospital and hoping he was okay, hoping he never found out about the lengths he'd gone to to ensure his safety. He hurried back upstairs when he was done, not wanting to keep Jim waiting. "A busy evening? What else is happening?" he asked.

            Jim wiggled his eyebrows and smirked, shoving Sebastian back into bed.

 


	33. Mrs. Buttons

            Jim made sure that neither of them slept for the rest of the night. The next morning as Jim was curled up against Sebastian, exhausted physically, but not really tired, he made an announcement. “I want a cat.”

            "A cat?" Sebastian laughed. "I thought you already _had_ a kitten," he smirked, rubbing his head against Jim's shoulder in a very catlike manner. He was exhausted, and in a great deal more pain than he was letting on. His whip marks were still fresh and had broken open more than once over the night, leaving the sheets smeared with blood. Jim had seemed to like that all the more.

             “No, no, darling, I've got a _tiger._ I want a kitten. A real kitten. Get up. We're going to the pet store.” He looked down at the sheets. “But first, clean this mess up, it's disgusting.” With that, Jim went and climbed into the shower.

             Sebastian obeyed, laughing despite everything. He got a nervous feeling in his stomach, though. Jim didn't have a very good history with pets. Inevitably he got bored of them and decided to vivisect them or pit them against a larger, more ferocious animal and watch with delight as it got torn to pieces. A psychopath should not be allowed in a pet store, Sebastian thought. He stripped the bed, cleaned himself off, then yanked on some fresh trousers. "Jim..." he said when Jim returned. "I'll need some bandages for my back. I'm not having blood stain through my shirts."

             Jim rolled his eyes, as if Sebastian was the neediest, most helpless person in the world and went to fetch them. He quickly bandaged him up and then slapped his arse. “Right. Hurry up. I'm ready to go.”

            An hour later, they came home with a tiny gray, squirming kitten who mewled as they put her in the house and showed her where the litter box was. Sebastian laughed for about twenty minutes when Jim named her Mrs. Buttons, no matter how much he thrashed Sebastian in annoyance.

             Jim ended up punching Sebastian in the nose and ordering him to go to the hospital to relieve Dawlish for a few hours so the man could take care of a hit that he'd been researching for JIm. “Tell him not to take too long. I want you back here, and nearly everyone else is tied up with something right now. Call me if you need me. And tell that pathetic scrap of a man that if he tries to kill himself again, everyone dies. And that if he _DOES_ succeed in killing himself, everyone dies anyway.”

            “Yes, boss," Sebastian said, holding his bloody nose. He hurried to the hospital, sent Dawlish on his post, and hurried to John's side. John looked a little better. "John, I'm here," he whispered, smoothing back John's hair and kissing his forehead. "How are you feeling?"

            John slowly turned his head to look at him and swallowed. His throat still hurt horribly, but his voice was a bit better. He didn't answer Sebastian's question. He wouldn't like the answer. Instead, he just said, voice gravelly, “...I'm sorry.”

             Sebastian continued to run his hand through John's hair. "I thought I'd lost you there for a while," he whispered. "Jim's told me to tell you that if you try to kill yourself again, everyone dies. If you succeed, everyone dies anyway." He took a deep breath. "I don't want that to happen, John, and but I'm asking you not to do this again because I'm a very selfish man."

            John looked at him sadly, but gave a small nod. “I won't...I reckon I couldn't do it anyway, and what's the point? I stay alive, people die, I _die_ , people die...I don’t want to hurt you, Sebastian.” He sighed and looked over at the heart monitor before back to Sebastian. “How long are you here for?'

             "Not long..." He picked up John's hands—John’s restraints had been removed, although he was under constant monitoring from nurses. "But John, things are going to get better. Jim's promised he's not going to rape you anymore. I've...I've given myself over to him," he said reluctantly.

             John frowned up at him. “What exactly does that mean?”

            "I've told him that I'm in love with him," Sebastian said. "That I've always loved him, and he bought it. I'm his now, or so he thinks. I begged him to back off from you because I'd die of jealousy otherwise." He smiled a little bitterly. "It's perfect, really. Attack the hubris—death by adoration. I'm sorry, John...I'm sure it's not what you want to hear, but don't you see what a perfect plan it is?"

             John closed his eyes. He felt even worse now. He didn't want Sebastian to have to take this all on. It was all John's fault. “I'm so sorry, Sebastian...I should've just let him do it...I shouldn't've tried to fight him...to argue. All I ever do anymore is hurt people.” Even if it was indirectly, he was always the cause. John's heart sunk. “I'm so, so sorry, Sebastian...you...you should've just let me die,” he added quietly.

             "Shut. _Up,_ " Sebastian said. "I love you, John. I don't regret having to do any of this, I only wish you would feel happier.”

             John gave him a weak smile and gave his hand a little squeeze. “I'll be okay,” he said, trying to soothe Sebastian with a lie. “And just so you know, Jim's forbidden me from talking to you, so if he asks if I said anything, tell him I wouldn't speak to you, okay?”

             Sebastian's heart clenched at the thought of John never being able to talk to him. "All right," he said. "Look, John, I have to go. Know that I love you, always and forever. More than anything." He leaned down and gave John a long, tender kiss, and pressed his lips to his forehead. "I'll see you soon..."

 

            A week later, John was readmitted back to Jim's house. "Why, _hello_ , Johnny," Jim said tenderly. "We won't be making any more foolish mistakes, will we? No," he said, stroking John's hair. "This is how things are going to work from now on...."

             Jim locked wide leather cuffs onto John's wrists. They were unattached, but he wouldn't be able to access his wrists to cut them. "If I find you trying to put anything toxic in your mouth, you'll be wearing a muzzle all day," Jim said. "Now, off you pop to do your chores as usual." Mrs. Buttons came out mewling and began rubbing against John's ankles, purring.

            John blinked down as he felt something rub against his leg. “You...you got a _kitten_?” John asked, too surprised to tack "master" on to the end. The idea of Jim Moriarty owning any sort of cute cuddly creature was shocking, suspicious, and mildly horrifying.

             "This is Mrs. Buttons," Jim cooed, and Sebastian snorted a laugh. "You'll be cleaning her litter box and making sure she's got enough food, fresh water, and exercise. I bought her some catnip mice and some feather toys, but if I find you playing with her when there are still chores to be done, I'll slice off your ears and feed them to her," Jim said.

             John frowned up at him and gave a small nod, then looked down at the small kitten, now pawing at the hem of his trousers. He hesitated before bending down and scooping up the tiny furball. John couldn't help give ma small smile as the cat purred and waved her paws in the air. “Mrs. Buttons, is it?” he asked the kitten. “What a nice name you have,” he said, lightly scratching behind her ears. She purred again and closed her eyes.

            “CHORES!” Jim practically shouted at him.

             John flinched, stroked her head then sat her back on the floor. “Yes, master,” he mumbled before he turned and walked down the hall, eyes on the ground. As soon as John left, Mrs. Buttons started prancing after him silently.

             Sebastian smiled secretly at the cat's immediate like of John. He just hoped Jim wouldn't get frustrated and have the cat killed.

            Things became as close to harmonious in the house as they likely ever would. Jim left John to his chores for the most part, and Sebastian and Jim were hard at work during the day and some nights. Sebastian missed talking to John a great deal, but it was nice having him back in the house, just being near him. When Jim wasn't looking he'd let his shoulder brush up against John's in the hallway, or his fingers brush John's hand.

            After work most days, Sebastian would head to Baker Street, taking great care to make sure nobody was following him, and would talk to Sherlock about his progress.

            Jim was even letting John eat regular meals. The gala was coming up, and he wanted John healthy for the event. Meanwhile, Sebastian's back was slowly starting to heal.

             Sherlock managed to get the sniper who was following Mrs. Hudson locked up on other charges, although he of course stayed far away from the case. Just in case Jim _did_ look into it, he would have a very long and strenuous path to follow to link it back to Sherlock. It wasn't much, but it was a start.

            Over the next two weeks, John and Mrs. Buttons became nearly inseparable. The kitten followed him nearly everywhere and John took complete care of her, seeing as Jim was completely neglecting her. John craved those small touches from Sebastian. They appeared to be nothing more than accidental brushes if Jim was ever to look hard at them in the surveillance. John started letting the kitten sleep in his room, mainly because she was a welcome distraction from Sebastian's and Jim's cries and squeaking bed next door.

            One day, Jim had a man over to take John's measurements so that he could make up a suit for him. He returned the next day with one already prepared.

            At Jim's command, John went to try it on, tie pin, cuff links, pocket square and all, then walked out to show him.

             Jim had unbuckled the cuffs protecting John's wrists for the occasion. "Oh, _Johnny_ ," Jim breathed, eyes eating John up from head to toe. "I could _devour_ you on the spot." He licked his lips.

            The suit was made of the finest wool, an expertly tailored English cut. It flattered John’s shape, emphasizing his square shoulders and trim middle, the gray fabric bringing out the blue in his eyes, and the dark blue of his tie making his hair look golden. He had on new shoes as well, so shiny they looked like black mirrors. "Sebby, come out and see!" John called into Sebastian's gunroom. "John looks _decadent_."

            John swallowed and kept his eyes on the floor. He felt foolish in the clothes, like some monkey that Jim was just parading around, which was essentially what was going to happen. John wondered if he was supposed to come off as Jim's lover or as a pet. Neither would surprise John really, but he supposed he'd rather it be the first that the latter. John glanced up at Sebastian walked into the room and then averted his eyes, embarrassed.

             Sebastian swallowed. John looked incredible. He was blushing, staring at the floor, and Sebastian's heart skipped a beat. He had a sudden, alarmingly vivid vision of John dressed like that, in front of Sebastian, slipping a ring on Sebastian's finger. Idiot, _idiot_ , Sebastian scolded himself. He cleared his throat and finally said, "Yeah, he looks passable. Good tailor, Jim," he said, leaning in to kiss his boss. "I'm still a little mad you can't take _me_ , though. You'll have to take me somewhere nice another time," he murmured in Jim's ear.

 


	34. The Gala

When the day of the gala arrived, someone came to tidy John up. She shaved his face, clipped his eyebrow hairs, gave him a fresh haircut, styled his hair, and tended to things John had never given a second thought to, like his nail beds. She scrubbed him clean within an inch of his life, much to his embarrassment, and then gave him the clothes to change into, all of this without saying a word, even when John tried to engage her in conversation.

             He felt relieved when the grooming was finally over and he could dress, although now more than ever he felt like Jim's pet, ready to be paraded around at a dog show. Once he was dressed, he went down to find Jim in his office, who was also dressed to impress. John had to admit that Jim really did look quite nice. Of course, he always wore suits, but he appeared to have gone the extra mile today. John shifted his weight as he waited by the door. “Master?” he asked, “How...how do you want me to act?” Mrs. Buttons hopped over to John and started nosing around his shoe. He scooped up the tiny kitten in his hand and stroked her head.

            “Put that cat down this instant before she gets hair all over your suit," Jim growled, shooting a death glare at the gray fuzzball in John's hands.

            John flinched and set the kitten down and tried shooing her away, but she moved to curl up in between his shoes, resting her head on one of them. “Sorry, master,” John mumbled.

             Jim growled and picked the cat up by the scruff of her neck and tossed her out of the room, slamming the door behind him. "You're to be my date, John Watson," Jim said, stepping in toward him. "You'll be wearing a tracker bracelet on your ankle, and you will be wearing a wire so that I'll be able to hear any conversations you have with others while I'm not by your side. Which is good news for you, because you'll be able to mingle. Sebastian will be in the upper levels of the ballroom, scoping things out and contacting me if he finds any glitches or problems, and there for back-up as always. I'm not overly fond of these kinds of parties, but provided you mind your manners and we keep ourselves near the champagne, we should have a good time. Questions?"

            He attached his cufflinks to his coat, which John was horrified to see were made out of human molars. Jim obviously was dressed to intimidate tonight.

            “Do you want me to call you Jim or James?”

            "Jim will do fine, although James will do as well if you want to show a little respect or affection," he said, looking John over and brushing off his suit lapels. "I'll be keeping very close tabs on you, John. Don't do anything idiotic, although with your track record, I don't have much confidence. Still, I'd rather it were you than any of the other idiots I employ, since Sebastian's not available." He sighed theatrically. "Ah, well, pet, we'll enjoy ourselves, won't we? Who knows, I might get to arrange a royal kidnapping or coordinate a national embezzlement scheme. SEBASTIAN!" He called out the door. "Are you ready?"

             Sebastian came down the stairs, buttoning his cuffs. He was wearing a black suit and shirt, tailored perfectly. It showed off his body wonderfully without being crass, Jim thought. And the trousers hugged his arse perfectly. He looked him up and down. "Bring the car ‘round, darling."

            John's mouth hung open slightly. He had looked strapping on that first date so long ago, but this was nothing less than stunning. He clamped his jaw shut—thankfully, Jim was also looking Sebastian over and didn't notice John's look. John's eyes locked with Sebastian's for a brief moment before the other exited the building to get the car.

            Sebastian was quiet in the front seat as he drove them to Kensington Palace, where the gala was being held. John, too, said little, grateful despite everything to be going out and getting the chance to interact with other people, however briefly.

            Once they arrived, Sebastian grabbed his gun and entered via the side entrance with the clearance badge Jim had secured for him, and Jim and John went through the front entrance. "Now, John, be on your guard. This might shock you, but not everyone is my biggest fan." He flashed his invitation at the doorman, passed through a marble foyer and into an enormous room teeming with men and women dressed the nines. There was a chamber orchestra at one end and an impressive buffet table to the other. John had never seen so many beautiful rich people in one place in his life.

             John cleared his throat as he looked around. He felt underdressed until he remembered what he was wearing and realised that he probably fit in almost perfectly, which was strange. He decided though, that even if they didn't like Jim, there was no reason that they shouldn't like _him_. He would be perfectly polite, charming and friendly.

             A South-Asian gentleman approached Jim. "Mr. Moriarty," he said in hushed tones. "I was told you would be here. I have a proposition regarding the situation in North Korea."

            John raised his eyebrows and Jim gave him a meaningful look. "John, darling, why don't you go mingle for a while, hmm?" He tapped his ear, reminding John wordlessly that he could listen in on whatever John said.

             John eyed the man for a moment before he gave a small nod and headed off to the buffet. He decided he’d rather not know what Jim’s involvement with North Korea was. He already had enough trouble sleeping at night. At the buffet, he grabbed himself a few pieces of cheese and some grapes as well as a glass of champagne, then stood back and watched people. For the moment he was perfectly content being a wallflower, but he couldn’t help be excited when a handsome man approached him and with a friendly smile.

            “Hello! I know you, I think! You’re that blogger, the one that hangs out with that detective, right? You look like the blogger, at least.”

            John nearly choked on his grape. What was he supposed to say? Would he get in trouble if he told the truth?  “I erm...yes...that's me.” Jim had never said he wasn’t to be John Watson tonight, just that he was to be Jim’s date. John gave him a tight smile, though not an unfriendly one.

             "Wow, it's wonderful to meet you," the man said, reaching out to shake his hand. He had a slight accent. Italian, maybe, or Spanish. "I was a big follower of the blog, you know." He smiled at John. "You're...you're much more handsome than in your picture, you know," he said, blushing a bit.

            John shook his hand firmly, feeling his face growing a bit hot. The suit seemed to be effective. “It's nice to meet you...what did you say your name was?”

             "I didn't." The man stared at him.

            John cleared his throat, feeling a bit uncomfortable now. He had just assumed that that was a universal phrase for "Who are you?"

             "Are you here with the detective? Are you here on a case?" The man leaned in conspiratorially. “Because, between you and me, there are more than few people to investigate here.”

            “So I gathered,” John laughed. He wished, more than anything, that that was the case. He wished he was here with Sherlock, helping to _solve_ something, to do some good for once. “No. No, actually, this is purely a social engagement. Sorry to disappoint.”

             "No, not at all! If you're not here with anyone, you'd be welcome to spend your time with my company...we've got a private room in the back, and room for one more. We'd be honored to have a...a minor celebrity army doctor in our company."

             That sounded wonderful to John. But there was Jim... John made a sort of disappointed noise. “I'd love to, but I'm not actually here alone. My ‘date’ is...somewhere...” John trailed off as he peered through the crowd looking for Jim. “However...they seem to be engaged elsewhere at the moment,” he frowned as his scanned the room.

             "Oh, go on then, Johnny boy. Just don't do anything stupid," Jim said into John's earpiece. "But if I ask for you, I want you on my arm on the click of my fingers."

            "Then you won’t be missed!” The man said.  “How rude of me. My name is Bernardo. Come, I'll introduce you to my friends. You are a doctor, yes? I broke my nose a while ago, can you tell that sort of thing?” He showcased his nose for John, taking his arm and guiding him out of the large room and up a wide staircase to a plush lounge lined with velvet furniture and chandeliers. A group of suited men and a couple gorgeous women were gathered in a group, laughing, drinking, smoking, and jabbering in Italian.

            Bernardo flung his arm around John’s shoulders. " _Tutti_ , _atenzione_! This is John Watson, that London detective’s blogger. So he is a bit of a celebrity, yes? And don’t worry, the detective is not here, so carry on!” The room laughed, someone handed John a tall Campari cocktail, and soon John was surrounded by people laughing, telling stories, asking John questions about any funny stories he had, and babbling over each other in a pleasant, confused mix of English and Italian.

             The longer he spent in the room and the more he drank, the more he relaxed. He was hardly drunk, he wasn't even tipsy, but the alcohol mixed with the amiable people surrounding him made him more relaxed than he’d been in months. It was wonderful. John just wished Sebastian could join him.

             Bernardo, in the midst of the chaos, answered his ringing phone. He held a hand up, and most of the people in the room shut up. " _Scuzi_?" He poured a large amount of rage and seriousness into that single word, then began rattling off something in Italian. He hung up the phone and looked around the silent room. "Everyone, you won't believe who is here. Jim Moriarty." He looked around, grinned, raised his eyebrow, and pulled a gun from his coat. "Shall we go say hello?"

            There was a flurry of clicks and movements, and in moments John found himself surrounded by guns. It seemed that everyone was armed, including the woman in the skin-tight dress, which was just impressive.

            John’s heart hammered. “Wh-what’s going on?” Great. He’d managed to befriend a room of angry, armed Italians.

            Bernardo dragged him to his feet. “Ah, yes, John, you have _met_ Jim Moriarty, yes?”

            “You could say that,” John said stiffly.

            “Yes, in fact, I _saw_ you with him earlier tonight. You seemed to be on rather friendly terms, you two. I had not expected that, based on your blogs.”

            John clenched his jaw. “And here I thought you’d chatted me up because I was just so charming,” he said lightly, covering his worry.

            “Sorry, John, you do seem like a fun bloke…” He turned his revolver on John. “Do you have his number?”

            John stared down the gun barrel, hands automatically going up defensively. “Yes.”

            “Call him.”

             "No need," Jim said, stepping into the room, and all eyes and guns turned to him. Jim winked at John. He looked utterly relaxed, hands in pockets, staring the Italians down with a vague smirk. He was in his element.

            "I got bored," he said. "I already organized a jewel heist, a royal kidnapping, and a terrorist plot, what's a consulting to do next? How lucky for me that the Sicilian Mafiosi were at this party...here I was thinking this was going to be another _boring_ party. So...what's to stop me from having all your heads stuffed for my living room? You'd all complement my Italian leather sofa." Everyone in the room bristled and several safetys were removed, but Jim just laughed.

             John's eyes were wide as he looked back and forth between Jim and the other man, his hands still raised. “I think I’ll just go,” he murmured, stepping hesitantly toward the door, but Bernardo grabbed John by the arm and yanked him back, twisting it behind him. He held him close and trained his gun to his temple. “Recognize him, Moriarty? I had no idea you and the blogger were such good chums.”

            Jim tossed back his head and laughed. "Ohhh, you can keep him. Please. I'm sure he loves lasagna. Mama Mia!" Jim said in an obnoxious Italian accent, waving his arms around theatrically.

            One of the women fired a shot just above his head. Jim barely blinked, only gave her a mock-disappointed face and looked back at the wall. “Whoopsie. I think that’s a very ancient painting, my dear. I hope you can afford it. Now then," he said, smoothing off his suit sleeves. "Would you like to know what’s going to happen next? You're going to put your weapons away, or I'll text the locations of your headquarters to the Junta. Ohhh, they'll _loooove_ that!" Jim pulled out his phone, twirling it in his hands. As much as John loathed Jim, he had to admire how he could control an entire room with such nonchalant confidence. He looked coldly at Barnardo. “That man is of no interest to me, honestly,” he said, flicking his eyes to John with complete disdain. “You might as well let him go.”

            "You're bluffing. You don't have contacts with the Junta," Bernardo said through his teeth, not letting go of John.

            "Right, just like I don't know who's holding Franco Martinelli hostage," Jim yawned.

            Barnardo paused for a moment, then slowly let go of John, but kept his gun trained on him. He nodded to the others, and they lowered their weapons.

            "Very _gooood_ ," Jim said, striding farther the room. “Now, then. All guns out of hands, or I don’t say a single word.”

            “Okay, then, Moriarty, what do you want? Where is Martinelli?” Bernardo asked, flexing his jaw and setting his gun on the table beside him.

             Jim grinned and shook his head, hands in his suit pockets. "Oh, no, I don't give away information for free. Who do you think I am?" he asked. "John, come here, and bring that gun," he said, nodding to the gun on the table.

             John had already been eyeing it and at Jim's order, he snatched it up, cocked it and trained it on the Barnardo, backing towards Jim. He’d lived with Jim long enough to know which side he wanted to be on in any kind of firefight or negotiation.

             "Wait a second—what is this?" the man said, looking at them, but Jim was already talking to someone upstairs. "Yeah, third door to the left. Bring your friends," he said, then hung up, grinning. "You all need to do your homework next time. Tsk, tsk, tsk. I'm off to contact Martinelli. It would be wise if you didn't try to shoot me in the process, unless you never want to see him again.” He strutted out of the lounge, snapping his fingers for John to follow.

            "Aaand now we wait for the bloodbath," he smirked to John, pulling him into a shadowy corner to wait. "Three...two...one!" Four suited men ran down the hallway and kicked open the door to the lounge. Gunfire and screams blared through the marbled hallways and Jim laughed. "Ahhhh, I love pitting rivals against each other. Two thorns in my side, out at once."

             John flexed his jaw and uncocked the gun and shoved it down the back of his trousers after flicking on the safety. He figured if they were sticking around longer, he might as well keep it on hand, just in case. He swallowed and looked over at him and raised his eyebrows. “Well. Are we going back down stairs or didn't you want to be on clean-up duty?”

             Jim's body was brushing against John in the small nook they were in. "You're loving this, aren't you? Out of the house, into the action...you’re not even phased by the fact that there are about twelve new corpses in the room next door.”

            “Not much phases me anymore,” John said blandly, but his eyes looked up at Jim meaningfully.

            Jim tilted his head, considering him. “Maybe I should put you on my hit team. Would you like that, sweetheart?" he asked, stroking his fingers down John's cheek.

             “When have I ever liked _anything_ you’ve done to me?” John asked flatly. “Just do what you want, because we both know what I want doesn't matter in the end anyway.”

             Jim laughed softly. "Well said," he murmured, then seized John's throat, pinned his head against the stonewall, and kissed him until John's couldn't breathe properly.

             John's hands pushed lightly on Jim’s chest, trying to get some air, but he did his best not to fight away from it, not wanting to piss Jim off when he was in such a gleefully sadistic mood.

             Jim pulled away quickly, grinning down at John. "Mmm, haven't kissed those lips in a while," he said, licking his own lips. "I forget how good you taste, Johnny boy." He leaned out in the hallway. "This turned out to be my kind of party! Let's go back downstairs and mingle. Things are going quite smoothly, I'd say."

            As they were making their way downstairs, Jim’s phone rang. It was Sebastian, and his voice was a faint, pained rasp. “Jim—track my phone. I’m in the alley. Get the car. Keys in my coat in the coatroom—“

            “Sebastian? Seb?” Jim barked into the phone, but Sebastian had ended the call. Jim looked up at John, and for once their emotions were the same; utter fear for Sebastian.

 


	35. Healing

            Sebastian prided himself on being very good at assessing his environment and noticing risks as soon as they arose. However, the three men who snuck up on him during patrol had come silent as fog. They’d seized him and dragged him outside, wrestling his gun away from him with reflexes that made Sebastian’s head spin.

            Not as hard as it spun when they beat him within an inch of his life and left him in the back courtyard, sticky with blood and wheezing in pain. With his unbroken hand, he’d dialed Jim and rasped out his message until he couldn’t hold on anymore, giving in to unconsciousness.

           

            John and Jim said nothing as they hurried down the hallway toward the back exit of the palace. Jim threw the door open and they rushed out, calling Sebastian’s name.           

            John was the first to see him, crumpled on the ground in the darkness, near a rose bush. “Oh God—“ John rushed over and dropped to his knees, taking Sebastian’s vitals. “He needs a hospital, now.”

            Jim bent over on the other side of Sebastian, looking at him with unmasked concern, but his voice was cool. “He doesn’t need a hospital, we have _you._ He just needs some patching-up.” Jim swallowed down his worry. “I’ll bring the car around.”

            John continued examining Sebastian as best as he could in the darkness, using his hands more than eyes to assess his broken hand, the two smashed ribs, and the fracture in his right arm. John was most concerned about Sebastian’s breathing. It was shallow and ragged, and John couldn’t be sure that Sebastian’s broken ribs hadn’t punctured any internal organs without an x-ray. “Wake up, Sebastian,” he murmured. He pulled off his suit jacket and draped it over him for warmth, then looked behind him to make sure Jim wasn’t around, bending to kiss Sebastian’s forehead. “Sebastian, you are not allowed to die,” John ordered quietly.

            Sebastian made a very faint moan, but didn't open his eyes or move. Still, the small noise gave John a bit of hope. Jim parked the car in the alleyway, and together he and John lifted Sebastian into the back seat of the car. It was a long drive home. "Did you get an assessment of his injuries?" Jim asked as he drove.

            “I'll need to start working on him immediately when we get back—he's got several broken bones and I’m fairly sure his whip wounds have all opened up again.” Sebastian’s back was soaked in blood, and the bleeding wasn’t slowing down. “He’s lost a lot of blood. Do you know his blood type? Could we get some bags over?”

            "A positive." Jim handed John his phone. "Text Ralph, and the bags'll be there before we even get back."

            John shot a text to Ralph as Jim pushed harder on the gas, rushing home. Once there, Jim and John hauled the barely-conscious Sebastian inside and shoved everything off the kitchen counter to lay him on top. Jim rushed to get the blood bags that Ralph had slipped through the mail slot and the med kit with the tubes and needles.

            John got the blood flowing into Sebastian, then started setting bones, hating doing it blind. From what he could tell, they were all clean breaks, but he had no way of being sure. Sebastian’s breathing had evened out, with made him feel a bit better about the situation.

            Jim hovered around him, watching as John restitched the deeper cuts on Sebastian’s back and put ice packs on the swollen places, for once not barking commands at John, just letting him work. John was grateful for the undivided concentration he was allowed.

            Sebastian’s ruined tuxedo lay crumpled and bloody on the floor, and the kitchen towels hastily put down on the counter were already soaked through with blood. The new blood was helping, however. Color was beginning to come back into his cheeks, and an hour later, Sebastian croaked out, his eyes still closed, “Johhnn…Johnn, I need you…”

            John swallowed and looked over at Jim, who had stopped his frozen pacing to stare at Sebastian. “Good—this is good, he knows he needs a doctor,” John said quickly, acting like it was totally normal. “May I talk to him, master?”

            Jim gave a curt nod, glaring over at John, then stepped in to listen.

            “I...I'm going to use his name, master. It's more familiar than ‘sir.’” He leaned back over Sebastian, willing him to wake up, and said softly, “Sebastian? ...Sebastian, I'm here—you're doctor's here...Jim’s here...wake up, come on.” John patted his cheek softly. He had a glass of water ready for him as well as a couple strong painkillers. “Come on, Sebastian—wake up.” John normally would let the patient rest, but since they weren't at a hospital, Sebastian would have to tell him if something hurt that he hadn't noticed. John prayed to God that there wasn't any internal bleeding.

            "Mmmmmphhh—" Sebastian's brows furrowed together, his face pained. He slowly and blearily opened his eyes. "Wha happened?" he asked.

             Jim and John let out a sigh of relief in tandem. Jim shoved John out of the way so he could be next to him. John stumbled a bit and shoulders drooped, but he watched over Jim’s shoulder, wishing he could hold Sebastian and kiss him and make sure he was okay. ...But that was Jim's place.

            “Sebby? Seb? You fucking bastard. Are you okay?” Jim asked, searching his face. He really did care for Sebastian, even if it was hard to tell sometimes. “You got attacked by some of Contino's cronies at the gala.”

             "Unghhh, ohh yeah..." Sebastian said, raising up his unbroken hand and touching Jim's arm. "You okay, boss?" he mumbled.

            “I'm fine. Where does it hurt?” he asked. “List them for John, then we'll give you some pain medication.”

             "My head...and my hand, I can't move it—" Sebastian held up his broken hand, which John had already done his best to reset and had bandaged up tightly. "And my legs..." As it turned out, there were very few places on Sebastian's body that didn't hurt. He coughed and fire shot through his ribs. His back was searing again as well.

            Once he'd listed off everything, John assessed the med kit. “I’ll need some more painkillers. Are there any in the toilet upstairs?”

            Jim nodded, and John headed up. The gun he’d taken at the gala was still tucked into the back of his trousers underneath his coat, which he’d slipped back on once they’d gotten Sebastian home. In any other situation, Jim would have remembered and quickly removed it, but his concern for Sebastian had trumped any other thoughts. Further proof that sentiment was a dangerous emotion, Sherlock would have said. John pulled the gun from his trousers once he’d locked the toilet door, opening the cartridge to find one bullet left inside. Better than nothing. He reloaded it, then wrapped it tightly in a Ziplock bag before he slipped it into the back of the toilet. Once it was well hidden, he grabbed the extra painkillers and headed downstairs.

             As soon as he turned into the kitchen, Jim ordered, "We'll carry him upstairs. He's to recover in your room, John. You will sleep on my floor until he is well again. Making sure Sebastian is taken care of is now your number one priority. All other chores are secondary. You may talk to him only if it’s for medical purposes. You will do your very best to help him heal, do you understand?" He looked down at John severely. "If I find you shirking in any way, I won't hesitate to put you in a world of pain far worse than his."

             There wasn't a chance John would shirk when it came to Sebastian. He wouldn't leave his side if he could avoid it. Still, Jim’s obvious concern proved to him more than ever that Jim really did love Sebastian. It was shocking, really, to see him display care for anyone other than himself, especially considering all the horrific things John had seen Jim do the Sebastian.

            “We shouldn't carry him—his legs aren't broken, so he should walk, otherwise we risk unsetting some of the other bones. We'll just have to help him, master,” John said.

             Jim nodded, for once not berating John for contradicting him. Together they helped Sebastian sit up, draping his arms over each of their shoulders, and helped him to John's bedroom. John put down a towel to soak up any blood, and they helped lay Sebastian down on it. Sebastian winced and moaned and closed his eyes, accepting the water John held up for him to drink. "How long'm I going to take to heal?" he croaked.

             John pursed his lips and looked at Jim then back to Sebastian. 'You need at _least_ a week of bed rest...but your bones will take several months...your fingers will heal up faster—I'd say eight weeks, maybe? You're...you're going to have to take a work hiatus.”

            Sebastian gave a long, low groan. "Fffuckkk..."he said. He looked up at Jim. "Immm uselesss to you now, boss," he said. "Are you going to kill me? Put me down like a lame horse? Pull the trigger and just—" He clenched his eyes shut and pushed his head into the pillow. He wouldn't be able to meet with Sherlock now. He wouldn't be able to keep Jim disinterested in John. Stuck in bed for a week? He'd been seriously injured before, but this was the worst timing.

             John flexed his jaw, and so did Jim. “Don't be ridiculous. John—how long until he can start working again?”

            “Well, not until he’s off the strong pain meds. At least a month before anything too strenuous.”

            Jim nodded. "Fine. O'Seanassy and Burke can cover your assignments until then," Jim said. "Hardly the end of the world. Stop being so overdramatic, Sebby. Now rest up. Don't hesitate to tell John anything you need. He's here to mend you in any way he can." He leaned down and kissed Sebastian's shoulder, glaring sideways at John. "And that's the _only_ reason he's here," he added meaningfully. He straightened. "Well. I need to change. Rest, Sebastian."

            John looked at Sebastian before he followed Jim out of the room. At least two months of sleeping on Jim's floor...that would be miserable. “Master?” he asked when they were back in Jim's room. “I think I should spend the first few nights, with Sebastian. I want to be sure that he gets what he needs immediately.” He hoped Jim wouldn’t find his suggestion too forward, but he hoped Jim’s concern for Sebastian would trump any suspicions of John’s motives.

            Jim narrowed his eyes. "Yes, all right. Just remember, John, your room has _excellent_ audio and visual surveillance systems in place. I'll be reviewing the footage very carefully."

            “Of course, master,” John mumbled before he turned and headed back into his own room. John had made sure that Sebastian was covered with all of his blankets, propping him up with pillows here or there to put him in the most comfortable position possible. John gave him a small, sympathetic, concerned smile, wanting him to be okay. He silently went to his wardrobe and began to change into his pyjamas.

            Mrs. Buttons slunk in the room, purring, croaked a small meow, and rubbed against John's ankles. She jumped onto John's bed and settled down in the crook of Sebastian's shoulder, purring in his ear. He closed his eyes and smiled a bit, stretching the painful cut on his jaw. "Thank you, Johnn," he said sleepily.

             John's smile faltered a bit, wishing he could say something in response, then turned back to pull on the rest of his clothes. He then crossed and shut the door most of the way before turning out the lights and curling up on the floor, blanketless, pillowless, but not Sebastianless, which was just fine with him.

            The next few nights were much the same, and Sebastian began a slow, painful recovery, John doing everything he could to make things easier. On the fourth night, Jim ordered John back to his room and had him sleep on the floor, rewarding him with a pillow and a blanket for his tireless work and obedience. Mrs. Buttons migrated into Jim's room and would curl up next to John on the floor to sleep at nights.

            Even though John hated moving back into Jim’s room, he would rather take the hard floor than to share a bed with Jim, and he was grateful for Mrs. Buttons’ warmth and affection.

             A few weeks in, Sebastian was still sleeping in John's room, and Jim was getting antsy. After checking on Sebastian, he stalked back into the bedroom. "What the _fuck_ is taking so long? Have you been holding back on your treatments, you little cocksucker?" he growled at John, who was changing for bed.

            “Wha—? No, master!” John tugged up his pyjama bottoms the rest of the way. “Sebastian’s injuries were severe—the body takes time to heal!”

            " _Too_ much time, if you ask me!" Jim said, reaching over and grabbing a fistful of John's hair, bending his head backwards. "I thought you were a _good_ doctor!"

            “I—I'm sorry!” John choked out, “There's nothing more I can do!”

            "This is what you wanted, isn't it? You wanted to _punish_ me, to punish Sebastian, didn't you? You sneaky little rat," he spat out.

             “No!” John’s heart pounded in his chest. How could he convince Jim that he was telling the truth? “It's nothing like that!” John hands went up to Jim's hand to try and pull it from his hair.

            "Do you still love him?" Jim said quietly, twisting his hand more painfully in John's hair. " _Do you_?"

            John hesitated. If he said "yes", then it would be clear that he was trying help Sebastian, but Jim would also punish him. If he said no, then Jim would think that John was doing this just to spite both of them and punish him anyway.  John didn't know what to say, and could only look at Jim fearfully.

            "SPIT IT OUT!" Jim roared suddenly, releasing John's hair to backhand him forcefully. "What's the matter, John, cat got your tongue? God knows you've been spending enough time with the furball! Well? Do you love him or not? Jesus, it's not a hard question!" he laughed, half-crazed.

            “ _Yes_ ,” John choked out, tears stinging his eyes as he stumbled backwards and held a hand to his cheek. If he was to lose either way, he might as well tell the truth.

 


	36. The Dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry

"There, now, John," Jim said softly, taking John's face in gentle hands. "Was that so hard?" He leaned down and kissed John's forehead softly. "My poor darling. Still in love with Sebby after he's explicitly shown his devotion to me. I didn't think even you could be such an idiot..."

             John felt a tear slip from the corner of his eye and looked away, trying to keep his breathing steady, but didn't say anything. Maybe this would be it. Maybe Jim would just think it was amusing and let it be...

            Jim laughed, pulled his lips away, and swiftly brought his knee into John's groin, causing John to cry out in pain and double over, but Jim yanked him up and held him up by the shoulders, punching him in the gut. "Oh, Johnny, I just don't _understand_ it! Why would you still be in love with him? It makes no logical sense! In the ordinary scheme of things, you should be an intelligent man...a doctor, after all, and a rather successful one too. Yet _love_ tends to turn people into idiots, doesn't it? You saw through me, after all, didn't you? How I feel about Sebastian..."

            John fell backwards as Jim talked, the wind knocked out of him. He struggled for air through the all-encompassing pain, sinking to his knees. He hoped desperately that Sebastian was asleep and couldn't hear what was going on.

            Jim paced around John, who was lying in the fetal position on the floor. "I imagine you've wondered many times why I've kept you around for so long. You haven't yet bored me, John. I keep trying to study you, to see why Sebastian was interested in you in the first place, why _Sherlock_ kept you around...now it's becoming clearer. There is far more to you than meets the eye, John Watson. Just when I think I've broken you...you fight back." He hauled John up to his feet. "And you fear me, ohhh yess, you know what I'm capable of." He cracked his neck to the side, still watching John. "Yet you _still fight back_..." he emphasized these last 3 words by prodding John in the chest with his finger. "I want you in my bed tonight," he said. "Sebastian's still absent, so what's a man to do?"

             John stifled his sob. “Please...please no...I'm sorry—please—just let me sleep on the floor—“

             Jim ignored his pleading, grabbing him by the throat and tossing him on the bed. "Don't try my patience any more tonight, babe," he said, crawling into bed. "I would hate to have to tie you up to quit you squirming."

            John let out another sob—still in pain, and wanting nothing more than to run away with Sebastian. “Please...please don't do this,” John begged, dropping the master pretense, too desperate to care. It'd been nearly a month since the last time Jim had touched him. He had foolishly thought he had been off the hook.

             Jim smacked John hard across the face, rolling him over and grabbing a pair of handcuffs from his bedside drawer. He snapped them onto John's wrists, then hauled John's hips up so he was on his knees and ripped down his pyjamas. He stripped the pyjamas from John’s legs and used them to gag John tightly. "I don't want you ruining Seb's sleep," he growled, shoving John's legs apart.

            At least there was that... John's tears flowed freely now and he unabashedly cried into the gag as Jim moved him around. There wasn't any point in fighting or arguing now. Last time that had happened, it had meant Stamford’s life.

            Jim reached into the drawer and pulled out some lube, slicking his cock and using his fingers to push inside John, prepping him quickly.

             John screwed up his face and clenched his jaw as Jim's fingers were shoved in. He let out a small whimper at the rough treatment and hoped it would be over soon.

            Jim scissored his fingers, stretching open the space, then added a third finger, moving them quickly out. He breathed heavily into John's back as he lined himself up, then shoved inside and began working in John quickly and mercilessly.

            John grunted and whimpered as Jim slammed into him. It had been long enough, and the preparation quick enough that it hurt. John was still in pain from Jim kneeing him in the groin, and the only upside was that he was positive he wouldn't get hard. John squeezed his hands into fists and pressed his forehead against the bed.

            Luckily for John, Jim was only looking for a quick fuck and made no pretense of drawing it out, keeping up the fast, hard pace and grunting quietly until he finally came with a small gasp deep inside John. He pulled out, panting, then unlocked John's wrists and untied the gag. "Clean up, then come back to bed," he panted.

            John gave a weak, silent nod and climbed from the bed. He was limping quite a bit from a mixture of Jim's punishments. He slowly made his way out the door and quietly into his room. He hoped to God that Sebastian was asleep, but he didn't look over to check. The nightstand light was on, but that didn't really mean anything. John could feel Jim's come leaking out of him and starting to run down his thigh as he moved to his wardrobe to quietly grab himself a new pair of pants and pyjama bottoms, and wiped some tears from his face.

            "John?" Sebastian whispered. "Did Jim...did he?"

            John let out an unsteady breath, but didn't say anything for fear that Jim would hear their conversation later. He wiped off his face again and limped towards the bathroom to clean himself off and out. He quietly shut the door behind him. As soon as he was on his own, he broke down into sobs, trying to stifle them so Sebastian wouldn't hear. He carefully lowered himself to tenderly sit on the lowered toilet lid and turned on the bathwater, hoping it would mask the sound of his crying and dropped his head into his hands. Whenever he started being okay, Jim would break him down again. Every time. At least no one had died this time, though, at least he had managed to take it more or less without protest. Still, what sort of life was that? How was he going to bear this?

            Jim drummed his fingers on his pillow as he waited for John to return. "John! What's taking so long?" he called in a sing-song.

            John very quickly bathed himself after the tears stopped and dried himself off. He pulled on the clean pyjamas, then slowly limped back out of the bathroom. He set his jaw, trying to put on a militant poker face. He hated Sebastian seeing him like this. He made his way around the bed and towards the door, not able to bear looking over at him.

             "John..." Sebastian whispered uselessly as John left.

            Jim smiled tightly as John came back in the room. "Into bed, muffin. I'm tired," he said, patting the other side of the bed.

             John didn't say anything as he made his way around the bed and slipped stiffly under the covers. He curled up tighter and turned away from Jim to stare at the wall. The bed, at least, was comfortable and warm. It had been weeks since John had been in a bed of any kind.

             "John, turn around and look at me," Jim snapped.

             John flexed his jaw and silently did so, just barely holding back a glaring look of hatred.

             "John.....you still love Sebastian, you said so yourself. And what are your feelings for Sherlock? Do you still care whether he lives or dies, after all this time?"

            “Of _course_ I care!” John said incredulously. “Why the hell do you think I do _anything_ you ask?!”

            "Eventually that won't be the case. I've created some fractures, some wounds, but I haven't _cracked_ you yet, John.” Jim sounded frustrated. “I've made you want to die, but that's not challenging or elegant or... _useful_. When I'm through with you, really through, your heart as you know it won't be burdened by useless care for people who would never reciprocate your love. You'll have a new heart, hard and black, one that I fashion for you. Only then will be a truly productive servant for me. And it won't take long. Not long at all, John," Jim said, stroking his hand down John's face and along his chest.

            John jerked away from his touch, giving Jim a disgusted look, though he truly felt terrified, because deep down, he knew Jim would be able to do it. “You're _insane_ —“ he hissed.

            "Would a sane person try to destroy someone's heart and soul? Probably not. Sure is fun, though, and _very_ interesting," Jim mused.

             John swallowed thickly and scooted farther away from him, but Jim plastered himself around John, holding his throat possessively. "Sleep well tonight, pet. It's going to be your last night in a bed for a good long while, I think.”

             John let out an unsteady breath, his skin crawling. He was already so close to cracking that it terrified him. He didn't know what Jim had in store for him, but he was certain that he wouldn't like it.

             The next morning, Jim woke John up and showed him a cupboard near the kitchen that he had cleared out entirely. It was barely big enough to lie down in, and there wasn't any light inside, not even a light bulb or a flashlight. "This is your new home," he said. "You will sleep here and eat here unless I command otherwise. If you're bad, you'll be confined here for however long I choose. You are not to have any contact with Sebastian: Visual, vocal, touch, or otherwise. When he is in the house, you will remain in your cupboard until I come and fetch you. You will ask me permission to sleep, eat, or use the toilet. When I'm not in the house you will be locked up and let out when I return. Do you understand?"

             John looked at the small space. He wasn't tall, but he wouldn’t be able to stand. His heart sank and his stomach churned. He felt like he was going to be sick. Never before had he ever felt such an overwhelming, crushing sense of despair. He wouldn't even be able to _see_ Sebastian—he wouldn't be able to see at _all—_ it would be pitch black. He wondered how long it would take for Sebastian to figure out what had happened to him. “Bu—but master, what about the cleaning? What about the cooking??” John didn't think he would ever _enjoy_ doing his chores, but he would far rather be doing them than be trapped in here. He would be even more restrained than usual, kept in more or less a cage. He took a step backwards.

             "You will earn certain privileges back, such as a sunlight, once I start seeing changes that I want to see. You will be able to cook ahead for meals in your time outside of the cupboard. I'll get you a chamber pot and a jug of water for your space, and you may take a pillow and a blanket. As for chores, you can do some of them still, but I'll hire a maid once more for the longer tasks that usually get done when I'm out working."

            John choked out a sob. A chamber pot? John would hardly be able to fit in it by himself. “Please...please don't make do this—I'll do whatever you want—please!” he begged backing farther away, pressing a hand over his mouth.

             "What could you possibly do that I would _want_?" Jim spat in disgust.

            “I don't KNOW!' John cried, then in an act of desperation, dropped to his knees and clung to Jim's suit jacket. “I’ll _be_ whatever you want!” he sobbed. “I’ll give you my whole heart, whatever you want, just please don’t make me go in there!”

             "Get off my suit," Jim's lip curled and he pried John's fingers off of him. "You won’t be what I want until I’ve broken you properly. If you tried now you’d only be pretending. I want your heart for real. All of it, undiluted. In you go." He pointed to the dark space.

            “I can't!” John sobbed, looking at the small space. “I _can't_!”

            "Relax, Johnny, it's hardest in the beginning. You'll grow used to it before long," Jim said, then grabbed John by his neck and shoved him inside, locking the door from the outside.

             John turned himself around to throw himself against the door, but it didn't budge. He tried again, his crying only getting louder and he pounded against it. “Please! _PLEASE_ —Let me out!” he sobbed, banging against it, the darkness closing in around him and he started to hyperventilate as the cupboard seemed to close in around him. He felt like he was suffocating.

            Jim rolled his eyes and went upstairs. The whiny bitch would get tired of screaming eventually. He stepped into Sebastian's room. Sebastian was gingerly putting on a shirt, dressing for the day. He froze. "Is—is that John I hear?" he asked, looking over at Jim.

             Jim looked at him flatly. “Who else would it be? How're you feeling? Now that all of the big things are, for the most part taken care of, _I_ will tend to you.”

             Sebastian frowned, trying to look more annoyed than what he actually felt—terrified. "Why? Is the actual doctor doing something more important now?"

             “No. John won't be doing anything for quite some time. He's received new living arrangements.” Jim looked around the room, his eyes landing on the picture of John and Sherlock on the bedside table. He made a disgusted face. “In fact, let’s throw all this rubbish out. He won’t be needing it anymore.” He picked up the frame and tossed it in the small bin next to the door.

 


	37. Broken

            Sebastian's stomach plummeted as he wondered what Jim had done with John. He forced himself to stay calm. "Where did you move him to?”

             Jim snorted, “I'm sure you'll figure it out soon enough. Just know he won’t be around to bother you anymore. I've decided that I will be the only one he sees. He needs to learn that he is mine—it's time that I break him once and for all. So how's your hand?” Jim asked reaching out to tenderly take it and look it over.

             Sebastian's stomach felt like ice, but he could think of no way to convince Jim not to do this without making it sound like he still had feelings for John. He was going to need to meet with Sherlock very soon. He'd been texting him through his bedridden days, but he needed a personal meeting once more.

             John continued his desperate banging for another ten minutes or so, although it felt closer to an hour to him, before he eventually slumped down and cried softly to himself, his voice raw. He could hear a muffled meowing and the soft scrape of paws against the other side of the door. John put his hand against it, wishing he could go out to see the small kitten and hold her. Mrs. Buttons was his only comfort most of the time and now he didn't even have her. After a couple of minutes, he heard Jim come downstairs. He seemed to be talking on the phone.

            “You fucking IDIOT! You'll be lucky if I only decide to skin you alive! The fact that I have to come out there at all—! Sebastian!” Jim called up the stairs.  “I'll be out for an hour. You're going to have to take care of yourself—fucking ingrates,” he mumbled to himself as he stormed from the room. John heard the sound of the door slamming a moment later. It wasn't any comfort that Jim was gone. He still couldn't talk to Sebastian or see him. He couldn't even write him messages on the mirror now. He bit back another sob and heard Mrs. Buttons pawing gently at the cupboard door, mewling again.

            Sebastian limped downstairs to get some food, and found Mrs. Buttons mewling and pawing at the door. "Hullo, little fuzzball, what's in there that you want, hmm?" Sebastian said, picking up the cat to pet.

             Mrs. Buttons meowed and pawed at Sebastian and looked back towards the door. John wanted to cry out to Sebastian, but he knew it would only make things worse. He couldn't however, hold back a miserable sniffle as he curled in on himself, tears still leaking from his eyes. He shifted his hand on the door. Sebastian was so close...

             "What's in there?" Sebastian asked the cat again, then tried to the door handle and found it locked. He rattled and tugged on it—the cupboard had never been locked before. He sighed and headed into the kitchen, looking in the fridge, then finally gave up and called for some Chinese to be delivered. He wondered where John was. He kept expecting to see him around the corner, cleaning or scrubbing or organizing, but he was nowhere to be found. He sighed, read the newspaper, and organized a new meeting time with Sherlock. He had to fix this, before John broke down completely. Wherever he was, Sebastian was sure it wasn't pleasant. His skin crawled at the thought, and then crawled some more at the thought that he was going to have to pretend to be in love with the man who was psychologically torturing the one he really loved.

             John heard Sebastian move around the kitchen and house, completely unawares of where he was. He didn't know if that was better or worse, Sebastian not knowing. Better, he supposed. A while later, Mrs. Buttons returned and started pawing at the door again, meowing desperately for John, who couldn't escape. Jim hadn't told him he couldn't talk to Mrs. Buttons, he realized, only Sebastian. Not knowing where Sebastian was in the house, having lost track, he held his hand to the door again, where the thought the kitten was. “I'm here Mrs. Buttons,” he said softly, “I'm here, don't worry.” The absurdity that he was trying to comfort a cat while locked in a closet was lost on him. He just felt sick, waiting in the darkness, wanting to die.

 

            It felt far longer than an hour before Jim finally returned. When Sebastian had gone upstairs to rest some more, Jim unlocked the door and let John out. John rushed into the dying light of the living room, so grateful for the light and space of the place. He felt almost _happy_ to see Jim. As much as he loathed him, seeing him was better than being alone in the dark.

            Jim ordered John to cook him dinner and commanded him to make enough for himself as well. He talked about his day and, John was shocked to find, had a civil conversation with John. It was almost pleasant. Jim then ordered him to clean up the kitchen, wash himself in the shower, and then he locked him back in his closet.

            Jim returned to John's room and told Sebastian that he was well enough to sleep with Jim again, and to move back in. Sebastian obeyed, beginning to suspect that John was being kept in the cupboard downstairs. The thought made his stomach turn. He came to bed and crawled in next to Jim, gingerly due to his still healing body. Jim, content just having Sebastian in the room with him for the night, rolled over and immediately went to sleep, claiming an exhausting day full of idiots.

            Downstairs, though, John couldn't sleep. He was miserable and didn't have the blanket or pillow Jim had promised. He felt a strange mixture of cold and stuffyness, curling in on himself, and before long, John was struggling for air in the stuffy cupboard. He pushed on the door hard enough that there was a small crack that let in a small amount of air, then he practically plastered his mouth to it, gasping for fresh air. He felt like the walls were closing in on him and he hated it. Seconds seemed like minutes and minutes seemed like hours. He had no way to tell how time was passing, save for the occasional meow from Mrs. Buttons, who had curled up outside the door to sleep. It hadn't even been 24 hours and John could already feel himself breaking. Another day like this and he wouldn't be able to stand it anymore.

            The next few days went on much the same—John was let out in the morning to do some chores and cook breakfast, then he was locked back in his room before Sebastian was up and moving, and kept in there until Jim returned at night, where he was let out and cooked dinner. Each night Jim brought him a little treat—the promised pillow and blanket, for one. One night it was the newspaper, the next it was a cold beer, the next it was a flashlight. "You've been very good, Johnny. You deserve a little bit of light," he said, handing it over and patting John's cheek

            The days were pushing Sebastian to his limit nearly as a hard. He was positive now that John was being kept in the closet, but if he so much as lingered in front of the door for too long, Jim would grow suspicious. And Jim wasn't raping John anymore, so he had no call to pretend to be jealous. It was torment. He was meeting with Sherlock nearly every day now after work, and Sherlock had become his only outlet to talk about what he was feeling. He could tell by the detective's expression that he wasn't comfortable being a sounding board, but he never told Sebastian to stop and Sebastian couldn't help himself.

             When Jim gave John the flashlight, John broke down into tears, sobbing, “Thank you, _thank_ you master—“ over and over again, unable to stop himself. He was so relieved, he could hardly even stand it. John felt himself slipping away, waiting desperately each day for Jim's return, which meant presents and getting some escape from the dark, if only for a little while. He had hated that he longed for Jim to come home, and that he was happy to see him. He hated it at first, anyway. Over the first two weeks, his hatred for his situation slowly started to ebb, and he was left with nothing but being relieved and happy when Jim came home. Jim had been right, the hardest part was the beginning, but soon it had become the norm. John hadn't seen Sebastian in nearly fifteen days, and it barely even bothered him anymore. Jim was the only one that could make things better for him, and so John's mind slowly start to turn so that it was solely on him.

             A week later, Jim came home and let John out as usual, accepting the hug that John gave him, stroking his hair. "Hi, darling. Miss me?"

             John gave a weak nod and clung to him, not wanting to go back into the cupboard.

             Jim held John, knowing that John was otherwise starved for any human contact. "I brought home a movie, darling. Make us some popcorn and we'll watch it. Seb's working late tonight." He pulled out the film _Thelma and Louise_ , grinning.

            “Yes, master,” John said, then hurried so set about preparing the popcorn, “Would you like anything to drink, master?” he asked as he scurried about.

             "Gin and tonic, Johnny," Jim smirked, kicking off his shoes and settling on the couch after popping the movie in.

             A few minutes later, John came over carrying the bowl of popcorn and a gin and tonic, and set them before Jim. “Can I have a glass of water, master?”

             Jim lolled his head toward him, raising an eyebrow. "I don't know, Johnny, _can_ you?" he said playfully.

            John faltered, not wanting to displease Jim. “I...m- _may_ I, master?”

             "Yes, of course. You’ve been so good and helpful. Get yourself a glass and then come join me," Jim said, clicking through the adverts before the disc menu

             John smiled at the praise, then disappeared and came back a moment later with the water and curled up next to Jim, grabbing a blanket and spreading it over both of them.

             Jim started the film and let John curl next to him, stretching an arm behind John to begin massaging the back of his neck with his fingers and thumb.

             John melted against Jim. He needed human contact and Jim was the only one who could provide it.

             "How was your day, Johnny?" Jim muttered, reaching for the popcorn.

            “Fine, master,' he mumbled, snuggling his cheek against Jim's shoulder. Mrs. Buttons walked over, and John, scooped her up, the only other thing he was allowed to have contact with, and set her in his lap to absent-mindedly stroke her.

             Jim smiled to himself. It was working beautifully. Before long John would absolutely crack. "You’re doing very well, John. I think before long you'll be able to do chores while I'm away, so long as you go directly to your closet if Sebastian returns. He doesn't want to be bothered with the sight of you. Does that sound reasonable?" he said, still stroking John's neck.

            John nodded eagerly, 'Yes—yes, thank you, master!” John almost cried with gratitude. Less time in the dark!

             "You please me, John, very much so," Jim said, and watched in triumph as John glowed from the praise. Yes, he was becoming very close to becoming John's entire world. Perfect. He leaned over and kissed the back of John's neck, just behind his ear. "This is my favorite part of you, Johnny," he murmured, licking and sucking delicately at the skin. "I couldn't tell you why..."

            John sighed, a soft smile on his face and closed his eyes, scooting even closer to Jim, content for the time being.

            Jim wrapped his arm around John and they watched the rest of the movie. Jim laughed when Thelma and Louise drove off the cliff at the end. "Idiots," he said, clicking the movie off. He stroked John's shoulder. "Time for bed, Johnny. See you in the morning.

             John nodded, thanked Jim again, then hurried to his cupboard and closed himself in. He closed the door, turned on his flashlight and got comfortable for a minute, then flicked it off, his eyes drooping. He realized Jim hadn't come by to lock his cupboard, so he pushed the door open just a bit to let Mrs. Buttons hop into it with him, then closed it again and went to sleep as the kitten curled next to him on the pillow. “Good night, Mrs. Buttons,” he murmured as he began to drift off, feeling much better than he had a week ago.

             In the morning, Jim opened the door and tapped his foot, waiting for John to come out. "Did I tell you could take the cat in with you to sleep?" he asked patiently.

             John's heart squeezed in fear, “N-no, master,” he mumbled as he crawled out, “I'm sorry—I didn't...I...I thought it would be okay,” he pleaded, looking up at him.

             "Yes, I'm sure you will be sorry, Johnny," Jim said. "Caring for the cat is fine, but it should never trump my orders. That's what concerns me so." He handed John a fresh jug of water. "I won't be needing you today. Back in your closet until I fetch you." He pushed John inside and locked the door from the outside, making his own breakfast and leaving for work.

             Once John heard Jim leave, he started to cry, feeling horrible that he'd done something so foolish. He didn't want Jim to be mad at him, and he didn't want to be in the cupboard all day. Even though Jim wasn't there to hear him, he started sobbing over and over again that he was sorry, into his pillow while Mrs. Buttons pawed at the door.

             John heard Jim come home, but Jim didn't let him out. He heard he and Sebastian conversing out the door, but he never unlocked the door. Jim had ordered Sebastian to bring home takeaway.

            "Are you sure John's still around, or are you just making that up?" Sebastian joked, though his insides were turning over and over. He was exhausted and utterly depressed, not having been able to sleep well over the past week. Every plan he’d thought of for communicating with John—notes under the door, talking to him—would be spotted on the audio and visual surveillance.

            Jim rolled his eyes. “Of course he's around. And turning out _wonderfully_. I pet. I reckon his heart and anything he was before is nearly gone now.” Jim sighed happily to himself, thinking proudly of his psychological handiwork.

             Sebastian stared, open-mouthed in horror, unable to speak. "W-what exactly are you doing to make him...like that?" he finally stuttered out.

             Jim grinned and winked. “I can't give away _all_ of my secrets now, can I? Got to keep some of the mystery, Sebby.” Jim patted his cheek and turned, striding into the kitchen. “Maybe in another week or so, I'll let him freely roam the house again—

hm. Actually, he should probably check on your wounds...see that they're healing properly.” Jim wrestled with his brain for a moment. He wasn’t sure how John would react to seeing Sebastian, but he guessed that by now John would be skittish around other people. And anyway, he needed John to take a look at Sebastian’s healing progress. “Maybe I'll have him take a look after dinner.”

             Sebastian's heart skipped a beat. "Yes, that's likely a good idea. As much as I've enjoyed not being bothered by him, that might be best." He tried not to wolf down dinner so that Jim would let John out.

            Once Jim finished, he took him time going about other things, checking his email, sending off a few, making a call here or there before he called Sebastian back into the kitchen. “Sebby! The doctor's in!” Jim yelled as he made his way over to John's cupboard, dusting off his hands. He unlocked the cupboard. "John, you're going to tend to Sebastian, make sure he's healing up all right. He's in the kitchen."

            John blinked up at him in surprise. “Will...will you be with me, master?”

             Jim smirked. "Of course, John, sweetheart. Come on." He guided John into the kitchen. "I put your med bag on the counter."

             “I’m sorry about this morning. I only wanted Mrs. Buttons to be okay—I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, master,” John pleaded, desperately wanting Jim's forgiveness.

             "It's all right, it's all right, honey," Jim said, stroking John's hair. "Now go do your job."

            Sebastian stared in horror at how John clung to Jim, how he seemed to be scared of even making eye contact with Sebastian. "What would you like me to do, John?" he asked, sitting up.

            John just looked fearfully up at Jim, who nodded at him. "You may speak to him, John."

            John gave a little nod and inched towards Sebastian. It was strange. He remembered the feelings he had for Sebastian, but they seemed hollow. He felt like if Sebastian really cared about him, he would've done something when John needed him. Now though, he almost just didn't care. He didn't need Sebastian, he had Jim. Jim gave him everything he needed. “Can...can you please give me your hand, sir?” John asked, glancing over at Jim, wondering if he was allowed to touch, and waiting for permission.

             "You may touch him," Jim said. Sebastian wanted to throw up. He wanted to hold John's head in his hands, to kiss him and remind him of their perfect conversations, their perfect nights together. Now John looked at him like a stranger. Sebastian stared at the floor, an enormous lump in his throat. He was trying his best not to care. Sentiment _was_ idiotic, he thought bitterly. Love was for chumps. He closed his eyes as John's hand brushed over his, business-like, no tenderness to be felt.

            John carefully unwrapped Sebastian's hand to prod mechanically at the bones. They were healing properly, which was good. John wound it back up, then checked Sebastian's ribs to check on the bruises, and then the whip marks on his back before he gave a small nod and retreated to Jim's side, standing closer to him than necessary, as if he was some sort of protection from Sebastian. “He's healing properly, master...is that all?” John asked, looking up at him.

             "That will be all for now, thank you, Johnny. Clean the kitchen, shower, get yourself a glass of water, then back in the cupboard," he said.

            Sebastian stood up, disgusted. "I'm going to bed," he growled. 


	38. Anniversary

            Sebastian was sitting up in bed, still disgusted by what Jim had turned John into, when Jim came up. "How's your lap dog?" he said, bitterness creeping into his voice.

            Jim raised an eyebrow and looked at him coolly. “ _Obedient_. Why do you suddenly care so much?”

             "I just think it's disgusting, what you're doing to him," Sebastian said. "He might've been annoying, but he was talented. I thought you didn't like disgusting little drones. You keep _me_ around, after all, and I'm always mouthing off to you. I'm _good_ for you."

            “Yes,” Jim said sharply, “You're good enough for the _pair_ of you. I get enough mouth from you that it's nice to have someone willing to jump into action at my every word. John is none of your business.”

             Sebastian swallowed. "Yes, boss," he murmured submissively. He pulled off his t-shirt, giving his back wounds and bruised ribs a chance to breathe a bit, then lay down.

             Jim gave him an annoyed look before he dropped onto the bed next to him. “And I swear to God, if I ever hear you utter another word in John Watson's defense, I'll chop his balls off and have him cook them up and feed them to you for breakfast.”

             "Y-yes, boss. Understood," Sebastian murmured, inching to the farthest edge of the bed to stare sleeplessly at the ceiling. "Good night," he added hollowly.

             Jim just huffed and rolled away, too annoyed to do anything else at the moment, and went to sleep.

             Sebastian lay awake, thinking hard. There were only two more hit men to be dealt with, and the final one would require a distraction on his part, as it could take the better part of a night to finalize, and this man was the most likely to get word back to Jim that things had gone wrong. He couldn't help be amazed and proud of Sherlock's work so far—Jim's web was crumbling from the inside and Jim hadn't even noticed yet, so sneakily was it being done. It gave Sebastian a sliver of hope, and as he tossed in bed, he devised a distraction for the final kill. He'd need to pin some details down with Sherlock.

            The next morning, Sebastian came downstairs and John was making omelets for him and Jim. "Thank you," he said, as John put the omelet and a pile of hash browns on his plate, but John didn't even look at him, just gave him a courteous little nod.

            "Jim," he said. "This Saturday's a really special day. Do you remember?"

            “No,” Jim said boredly from where he was sitting, one leg crossed over the other as he read the paper. John brought over the omelet for Jim and a glass of orange juice before he quickly went and climbed into his cupboard, closing the door, still not supposed to be out when Sebastian was around.

            "It's the anniversary of the day I fell under your employ," Sebastian said. "I know we've never really celebrated it before, but this will mark the 4th year, and I think it would be nice if you took me out to dinner. I'm sure I could think of something nice to do for you afterwards," he said, raising an eyebrow and running his shoe along Jim's.

             Jim raised an eyebrow as he looked up at him. “Hm...perhaps. I have a meeting until seven, however...I _suppose_ I could spare some time after that...you've gotten awfully sentimental, Sebastian.”

             "Not sentimental, boss, just realizing that a nice dinner every once in a while can be very enjoyable," he said. "And I hardly think you'll be calling me sentimental after the night is over," he said, grinning cheekily and winking. "'Sex tiger' might be the more applicable term."

            “Oh, is that so?” Jim asked, a bit more interested. “Well, darling. If you set the reservations, I suppose I can be bothered to show up.” He closed the paper and set it down.

            "Don't pretend like you're not excited, Jim," Sebastian said, running his hand along his boss's tie. "It's been quite a while since we've spent any quality time together..."

             Jim gave him a sort of coy look and batted his hand away. 'Very well, then. I've got to go. Bus bombings in Bahrain start soon, I've a meeting with the Finnish ambassador, _and_ I might reprogram the traffic lights in Hammersmith just for kicks.”

             Sebastian sighed. "Fine. See you later," he said, teasingly brushing his hand over Jim's groin and giving it a light squeeze as he rose.

             Jim smirked and arched one of his black eyeborw. He slapped Sebastian's arse then went over to John's cupboard. “You'll be staying in here while I'm gone. After that cat incident, I don't know that I can trust you to come out when I'm not here. Get out and go to the toilet now, because I won’t be here to let you out for a while. Now hurry up,” he snapped.

            John scrambled out of the cupboard with mumbled _yes, master_ ’s and _sorry, master_ ’s, and went to the toilet. He took a small drink of water from the sink. He hadn't been allowed food yesterday, and it seemed that he wasn’t going to get any today, either. As he hurried back and climbed into the cupboard, his stomach rumbled loudly. “Maybe if you're good, I'll bring you back another little gift,” Jim said before he shut the door and locked it.

             Jim came back that evening with a prawn sandwich for John, and let him out to eat it, then set him about on his evening chores as usual. John automatically went back to his cupboard when Sebastian came home, and slaved as hard as he could on chores when he was let out to do them over the next couple of days. When Saturday arrived, Jim let John out during the day. "I want this place cleaned, and I want my gray Westwood suit laid out, and the crocodile shoes. Do a good job, Johnny. You may have some lunch at noon. There is an apple and two slices of bread in the fridge for you to eat. If Sebastian comes home, go to your cupboard until he leaves, then resume cleaning. I'll see you later."

             John felt a wash of relief and gratitude at the prospect of being out of the cupboard while Jim wasn't there. He'd get to walk about. “Yes—yes of course, master, I'll do my best. Thank you, thank you.”

            John spent the next few hours milling around, cleaning and scrubbing the house until every windowpane gleamed and every corner was free of dust, wanting to please Jim. He found himself humming, so glad to be out in the sunlight and alone, no risk of getting hurt or making a horrible mistake.

            When Jim returned, he glanced around the house then found John and instructed him to help him dress for the night.

            "Come on, upstairs, hurry up. There's a package of biscuits in it for you if you snap to."

             John scrambled upstairs and hurried up to Jim's room where he had laid out Jim's things. He grabbed the crisp white shirt first and held it out for Jim to slip into it.

            Jim held out his arms as John buttoned up his shirt and secured Jim's cufflinks, then John helped him into his jacket, trousers, shoes, and necktie. Jim stood in front of the mirror. "How does your master look, Johnny?"

            “Fantastic, master. Very handsome,” John said, glancing up to meet his eyes in the mirror before lowering them back down to the floor. “Where are you going?”

            "Helene Darroze, then a hotel. I’ll return in the morning. Fix yourself a baked potato for dinner. You may allow the cat to sleep with you tonight," Jim said, smoothing out his suit. "Any other questions?"

             John felt a bit of happiness swell inside of him, then pursed his lips and glanced up at Jim again, “Is...is Sebastian going to be here, master...?” he asked, hoping that the sniper was going with.

             "No, obviously not. He'll be with me all evening. I'm expecting you to behave yourself, Johnny. We wouldn't want to get abandoned in the cupboard again, would we?"

             John shook his head quickly. He'd be here alone with Mrs. Buttons. He allowed himself a small and gave a little contented sigh. “Is there anything else you'd like me to help you with, master?”

            “Shine my shoes, John. Kit's in the closet," Jim said, sitting on his bed and waiting.

            John nodded and grabbed the kit, moving to sit in front of Jim, crossing his legs and setting Jim's feet on his knees. He hummed softly to himself as he pulled out the rag and polish and started to work the shoes over.

            “Do you enjoy being under my authority, John? Are you happy to serve me?" Jim asked.

            John blinked down at the shoes, caught off guard by the question, the frowned up at him, his humming stopped. “I...” John paused for a moment. Jim was all he had now—the only one that ever talked to him or did anything for him, gave him anything. He didn’t know if he was happy or not anymore. He felt safe, at least. He felt he knew what to do to please Jim most of the time. “Yes, of course,” John answered. He paused before asking quietly and fearfully, “Did I do something wrong, master?”

             "No, no, no...far from it, John. I'm _very_ pleased with you. Didn't I tell you things would be easier, happier, once I fixed your silly malfunctioning heart for you? How would you feel to be one of my employees, John? You would still be my medic, but you'd also get to help Sebastian protect me. How would you feel about that?"

            John's brow furrowed again. “I don't think Sebastian would like that.” He had a flash in his mind of the other man turning the gun on him and firing.

             "Forget working with Sebastian. You'd be working for me, to protect me, to serve me. Would you like that?" Jim asked.

            “Would I get to go outside, master?' John asked, looking up at him.

             "Yes. If I felt you were trustworthy enough," Jim said. "Going outside would be part of the job. How would you feel about killing people, John?"

             John clenched his jaw, and lowered his head to continue polishing Jim's shoes. If he said that he didn't want to, Jim would probably just shove him back in the cupboard, but John didn't want to do it. He didn't like it—especially innocent people. Softly, he mumbled, “That's okay master...I can...I can just stay here...”

             "Ahhha," Jim said. Not quite there yet. He wasn't surprised, but he'd wanted to ask to make sure. It would likely take a while longer and some further conditioning before John was ready for that point. It would come, of course it would, but it would take a while longer. He lifted John's chin to meet his eyes. "That's all right, then. Give me a kiss, Johnny, and then I'm off."

             John swallowed and blinked his eyes away before moving to his knees to kneel between Jim's legs to give him a small kiss on the lips before he dropped back down to sit. “Goodbye, master.” John glanced up at him and began to pack up the shoe shining kit.

            "Work hard, Johnny, and you'll be rewarded," Jim said, then took off, whistling, for the restaurant.

 


	39. The Hotel

            Sebastian's heart hammered when Jim arrived at the restaurant. If his and Sherlock’s plans went smoothly, this would be the last night Jim ever saw in this lifetime. His original plan had been to fill John in on the procedure, but now that he was Jim's faithful little drone, Sebastian would have to do the job. Or Sherlock. Both had enough rage for what Jim had done to John Watson. It wasn't going to be easy or joyful when it was over, though, even if it went well. Sebastian knew that. He would, in some sick, dark way, miss Jim. He would mourn for him. So he wanted tonight to count. He stood up and looked Jim over, taking him all in.

            "You look fantastic, James," he said, before sitting down. "I already ordered a bottle of your favorite Pinot Noir."

             “Oh Sebby, always _soo_ considerate. Adorable.” Jim dropped down into his seat and elegantly flipped a menu open.

            Over the course of the evening, Sebastian and Jim talked about funny heists, hilarious misunderstandings with kill orders, their memorable outings, and Sebastian reminded Jim of some of their more intimate times. "Remember when you left me hard all day, chained to that bed? Ohh, I was ready to murder you," Sebastian said in a low voice.

             “But you didn't!” Jim sang, and grinned. 'Mm. That was probably one of the most intense orgasms I'd ever had. You're quite an animal when you're desperate, Sebastian.” Jim took a sip of wine and took another bite of his nearly finished food.

             "I know," Sebastain said, meeting his eye. "And that's why you like keeping me, don't you? You would be one to keep a wild animal in the house, Jim."

             Jim laughed. “I’ve been considering getting an _actual_ tiger. Kittens are boring. Mrs. Buttons could be the tiger’s snack. And if John misbehaves, I can threaten him by saying I'll hack off his fingers and toes for tiger food. Wouldn’t that be fun?”

             Sebastian answered with a tight smile.

             Jim's eyes narrowed a bit at Sebastian's reaction. He knocked back the rest of his wine and set it on the table. “Anyway, you about finished, Seb? Want to take this rendevouz elsewhere?”

             "Mmmm, yes indeed, Jim. You're in for quite a treat." They paid and then headed out to the hotel suite, which Sebastian had booked for the occasion. He needed to keep Jim thoroughly occupied for the night.

            "We've got the whole place to ourselves, Jim. The whole night..." He pulled Jim inside by his tie and dragged him over to a chair, then pushed him down into it. He straddled the chair, moving his lips to hover above Jim's.

             Jim raised an amused eyebrow. “Planning on giving me a _lap dance_ , Sebby?”

             "Hardly, boss. At least not yet. I'm going to strip for you," Sebastian grinned. "And you're going to sit here and watch."

             Jim's grin widened. “Oh my, but I quite like this idea.” He sat back into the chair, his eyes dark, “Well, go on, then. What are you waiting for?”

             Sebastian backed up, swaying back and forth just slightly as he slid his jacket from his shoulders. He unbuckled his belt, hungry eyes on Jim the whole time, sliding it from his belt loops, then swaggered over to Jim and draped it over his shoulders. He began running his hands up his own chest, then began slowly unbuttoning his own shirt, loosening his necktie.

             Jim watched with a crooked smile as Sebastian's clothes slowly came off. He could feel his heartbeat speeding up. Fuck, Sebastian was hot.

            Sebastian let his head fall back as he slowly loosened his tie and unknotted it, letting it hang loose around his neck. He locked eyes again with Jim as he finished unbuttoning his shirt tantalizingly slowly, then ran his hands over his bare chest, exposing it, pushing the shirt apart to reveal his muscled chest. One hand trailed up to stroke along his neck and throat as the other hand slid down his thigh, rubbing it up and down and beginning to tease the button of his trousers.

             Jim watched him hungrily, wetting his lips, tempted to just order Sebastian to hurry the fuck up and get on the bed so he could fuck him senseless. “You're such a tease,” he breathed.

             "Shh," Sebastian said briefly, then turned his back to Jim to unbutton his trousers and let them slide off his hips, arching his back and stretching his arms, showcasing his whip-split tiger tattoo, his taut back muscles, and his rather fantastic arse. He trailed his fingers into the waistband of his pants, stroking at his hips.

             Jim was struggling to remain in the chair as his eyes wandered across Sebastian's form. He got a sick pleasure from seeing all of the places that he had marked Sebastian previously. His eyes flashed with hot desire as he felt himself hardening in his trousers.

             Sebastian, keeping his back to Jim, slowly peeled off his pants. He was already almost hard, and he turned languorously around and sat on the bed, one foot propped up on the bed, the other spread wide on the floor. He began to stroke himself, slowly, arching his back, looking at Jim as he moaned softly. Then he began to suck the fingers of his free hand as he touched himself, watching Jim. It wasn't long before he was fully hard.

             Jim's trousers were straining from his erection. His nails bit into the armrests of the chair. Keeping his eyes locked on Sebastian, he slowly rose and began to peel off his own clothing, going, for him at least, at an agonizingly slow pace. His eyes raked over Sebastian. “Hands and knees. Face away.”

             Sebastian shoved Jim backwards into the chair. "Sit down, boss. I'm not done yet."

             Jim grit his teeth, half furious and half practically slobbering in arousal by Sebastian's blatant lack of respect. His eyes narrowed, but he stayed seated, one hand going to slowly stroke his erection.

            Sebastian grabbed Jim's wrists and pinned to them to the chair, preventing him from touching himself. He straddled the chair, still standing, and lowered himself just far enough down to grind his prick on Jim's. He dropped his mouth toward Jim's, wetting his lips to kiss him, then pulled away the last minute. "Do you want me?" he murmured.

             Jim yanked on his wrists, but Sebastian was far too strong for him. “ _Yes_ —“ he hissed, eyes dark with lust.

             "Do you love me?"

             Jim clenched his jaw for a moment. He didn't want to say yes, but now that Sebastian said it, he knew he did. He didn't want to show that weakness, though. “ _Get off._ ”

             Sebastian smiled. "And that's all the answer I need." He leaned down, his open mouth hovering over Jim's. He reached his tongue in to touch Jim's, but kept his lips away. "Come and get me," he whispered into Jim's mouth, then released Jim's wrists and hurriedly backed up to the bed, crawling backwards onto it.

             Jim snarled and lunged after him into the bed. He landed on top of him and wrapped a hand around his neck, squeezing tightly. His pupils were so wide, they barely had any iris left. “What the hell is _that_ supposed to mean?” he asked, nails biting into Sebastian's tendons.

             "Ungh!" Sebastian grunted as Jim landed on him, and let out a choked gasp as Jim landed on top of him. "You're the genius, boss. You can—achh—figure it out." He clutched at Jim's fingers, trying to pry them off, all the while lifting his hips to grind against Jim desperately.

             Jim reached down and grabbed Sebastian's cock in a vice-like grip. “You think that just because your bleeding heart is in love with me that I am as well?” he snarled, his face an inch away from Sebastian's.

            “Yes," Sebastian choked out. "Tell me I'm wrong.”

             Jim let out a cry of rage and backhanded Sebastian hard across the face, letting go of his neck and cock. “ROLL OVER!”

             "I didn't hear a no," Sebastian gasped out after his head was cracked to the side by the forceful blow. He felt some blood trickle from his nose.

             Jim snarled in fury. He didn't know what was making him more angry, that Sebastian knew Jim's weakness, or that he refused to follow orders. Normally, Jim would just truss him up, and Sebastian wouldn't have a choice, especially if Jim had a riding crop or hot wax, or a paddle or _anything_ , but they weren't at home, so he couldn't. The damn headboard wouldn't even be able to connect to handcuffs. Jim didn't know how he could hurt Sebastian right now, his knife being on the other side of the room. He’d just have to play the jealously card, then. He sat back and moved to climb off the bed, perfectly normal again. "Fine then, you're not going to cooperate or behave, I'm going home to fuck someone that will be far more compliant." Jim started pulling up his pants. "I'll just fuck _John_ senseless tonight. At least _he_ actually wants it.” Jim snatched up his trousers in annoyance.

            Sebastian swore to himself. Jim _couldn’t_ go home tonight. It would ruin everything. Not to mention that the though of Jim touching John ever again made his blood boil. "No! Jim, please, forget I asked—it's a stupid question, it doesn't matter! I'm going to be in love with you either way, so it doesn't matter!" Sebastian stopped being frantic and played the seduction card instead. He dropped his voice to a purr and relaxed on the bed, then looked over at Jim with heavy-lidded eyes. "Come back to bed, darling. John won't be able to love you like I do..." he breathed.

             Jim much preferred the frantic begging. He looked over at Sebastian, huffed in annoyance and then snatched up his shirt, pulling it on and starting to button it up.

            Sebastian rolled off the bed and hurried to step behind him. " _James_ , this was not how this night was supposed to go," he said, wrapping his arms around Jim from behind, and beginning to nip and kiss at Jim's neck, trying to display affection instead of the utter repulsion he felt for him right now. He reached down and squeezed at Jim's bum. "I'll do whatever you ask. I'll be a good little tiger. Just don't go," he murmured, pressing himself against Jim.

            Jim gave an annoyed face that slowly morphed into a pout. “Then don't be _boring_!” he whined, turning around to face him. “You're not being any _fun_!”

             Sebastian sighed. He'd worked hard on that damn striptease. Now he was going to have to concoct something else. He absolutely had to keep Jim at the hotel tonight, though. "Sit down, boss," he said, pulling him over to the chair. There was no mystery left now—Sebastian was completely starkers. Well, he could fix that, sort of. He took Jim's necktie and sat on Jim's lap, tying it around Jim's eyes as a blindfold. "Can I trust you not to peak, Jim, or are you going to be a bad boy?" he said, letting his lips brush against Jim's ear.

            Jim already liked where this was going. “Mmm...that depends I suppose...what happens if I'm a bad boy?”

             "I'll have to tie you to your chair so you behave." Sebastian let his lips brush down Jim's jaw to his throat, then circled Jim's wrists with his large hands. "So you tell me. Is there going to be a problem?" He lightly brushed his naked cock against Jim's trousers, rolling his hips slightly.

             “No.” There might be, Jim hadn't decided yet.

             "Good," Sebastian breathed, then kissed Jim forcefully, deftly working his tongue in. He pulled away prematurely and stood up, starving Jim of any contact, and then began to circle the chair, trailing his fingers lightly across the back of Jim's shoulders and neck, seeing how good he was at staying still.

            Jim shuddered, his muscles twitching and flexing under Sebastian's touch. Sebastian dropped to his knees behind Jim's chair and grabbed a fistful of Jim's hair, yanking his head backwards. He wrapped a hand around Jim's throat, stroking and massaging it, squeezing it lightly. "Boss, I'd hate to think I was losing my touch with you. I used to be able to drive you half-mad. Seems I'm going to have to work extra-hard tonight to keep you here..."

             Jim took in a strained, surprised, gasp as Sebastian craned his neck backwards, his hands going to grab at Sebastian's hand around his neck to try and pry it off. “Yes—“ he managed, grinning.

            "Ahhhh, James," Sebastian whispered into Jim's ear, seizing his wrists with his hands. "I thought you were going to be a good boy?" He growled, biting and tugging at Jim's ear.

             Jim hissed in a breath and yanked on his wrists. What can I say, Sebby? I’m so changeable.”

             "Mmmm, you are at that. That's why you're irresistible," Sebastian said, grabbed Jim's arms and tugging them behind his back, using his cast off belt to bind his wrists together. "I never know what I'm in for." He circled back around in front of the chair, standing in front of Jim, bound and blindfolded. It was a sight he rarely got to see, and he was fully hard just looking at him.

             Jim gave his arms a hard yank, unsure if he liked where events were turning. This was definitely a first for the pair of them. The only other time Sebastian had taken the lead was the night that he found out what Jim was doing to John and he had stopped one minute into Jim's blowjob. Jim supposed though, that as this was their first time, it could hardly be considered boring. And besides, depending on how _this_ went, Jim could retaliate or reward Sebastian after. They did, after all have the entire night.

             Sebastian stepped forward and kneeled in front of Jim, pushing his legs apart. He stroked his hands along the insides of Jim's thighs, up and down. He trailed his hands up to Jim's trousers, unbuttoned then, then moved in to unzip them with his teeth.

            Jim's breathing was coming in short, shallow pants, as he felt Sebastian's hands and he spread his legs a bit wider. He was fully hard again and his trousers were straining as Sebastian unzipped them. “Sebastiannn,” he breathed.

             "Ahhh, seems I haven't totally lost my touch," Sebastian murmured, his hot breath hitting the skin above Jim's trousers. He pressed his hands under Jim's arse, signaling him to lift his hips, then slid Jim's trousers down until they were pooled around his ankles. He let his hands trail up Jim's naked thighs, breathing against the erection straining Jim's pants.

             Jim tipped his head back and leaned back in the chair, sliding his hips forward, wanting his erection to be closer to Sebastian. Wanting _something_ from him. “Touch me...” he whined.

             "Ohhh, _Jim_ , did I just hear you begging?" Sebastian laughed softly. He slid his hands up to Jim's pants, then yanked them down, enveloping Jim's cock with his mouth.

             Jim was about to protest that that could _hardly_ be considered begging when he felt Sebastian's mouth on his cock and he bucked his hips up. “F-fuck—“

             "Mmmmm," Sebastian groaned around Jim's cock, letting his tongue dart along it as he sucked hard. His hands stroked Jim's thighs as he went, then he pulled away, stood up, and leaned over Jim to untie his hands. "Come and catch me," he murmured into Jim's ears, then quickly sprinted into the adjoining space to the bedroom, where there was a living area with an enormous window overlooking the city.

             Jim ripped the blindfold off, tossing it off to the side just in time to see Sebastian disappear into the other room. He grinned and sprang after him, darting into the living area.

             Sebastian had backed behind the leather sofa. "Careful, boss, you should never let a tiger loose," he grinned, rubbing his erection against the sofa to maintain some sort of friction.

             “You're such a little slut,” he purred, slowly walking over, amused, “…rutting against the sofa because you need it so badly.” He tsked as he moved closer.

             "And you like watching," Sebastian said, cocking an eyebrow, pressing his groin against the furniture shamelessly.

             “What can I say? You're a sexy beast. I don't know that I'd go as far as to say _tiger,_ though...'

             Sebastian growled and lunged at Jim, knocking him to the ground. "Is that so?" He bit at Jim's jaw, pressing his chest against his.

            A puff of air and a small grunt escaped Jim as he was knocked backwards onto the floor. He wrapped his legs around Sebastian and rolled so that he was on the top. “Yes, that's so...although,” he said, leaning down to slowly lick up the side of Sebastian's face, “you _could_ do with some training.”

             Sebastian gasped, rolling his head back. He pressed his cock against Jim's, reaching between them to stroke them both together in his hand. "I think you've given me all the training I could ever need,” he said breathily.

             Jim groaned and rocked his hips a bit. “Is that _so_?' he asked. He slid his hands up Sebastian's chest, one going to wrap around his throat, the other going up push his fingers into Sebastian's mouth.

             "Mmmfh!" Sebastian moaned as Jim's fingers pushed in.

            “Suck,” Jim demanded.

             Sebastian sucked on Jim's fingers, closing his eyes and running his tongue over them. If Jim wanted him to play the obedient slut, he would not disappoint.

             “Good booy,” Jim crooned, starting to move his fingers in and out, fucking Sebastian's mouth with them before pulling them out. “Now be a good dear and spread you legs for Daddy.”

             Sebastian spread his legs further apart, looking lustily up at Jim.

             Jim smirked down at him and hummed moving his hand back to shove his fingers roughly into Sebastian's hole without any sort of preparation.

             Sebastian barked out a cry of pain as Jim's fingers breached him. "Ah! Jim—please..." he clenched his eyes shut, and clenched his buttocks around Jim's fingers.

             Jim leaned down to bite, lick, and nip at Sebastian's neck as his fingers continued to roughly work him open, curling against his prostate.

             Sebastian panted against Jim, bending his knees up, clawing at Jim's back. "Unghh—Jim—"

             Jim purred in Sebastian's ear, “Oh, kitten, look at you, already coming undone...it's precious.”

             "Ungff— _shut up_ ," Sebastian snarled, craning his head up to bite on Jim's lip. He tilted his hips up towards Jim's fingers. "Like you're God's gift," he huffed.

             “I _am_ God's gift, honey,” Jim said shoving his thumb in as well.

             "Aungh!!" Sebastian cried out, digging his nails into Jim's shoulders. It hurt terrifically, especially without any lube, but there was pleasure there as well. "W-why're you—punishing me?" he panted.

            “Oh Sebastian, if you think this is punishment, clearly I haven't gone as hard on you as I thought I had in the past.” He yanked his fingers out. “Hands and knees, _now._ ”

             Sebastian gulped, obeying, digging his fingers into the carpet as he spread his legs apart a bit. "Right, how could I forget?"

            Jim spit in his own hand, rubbing the length of his cock with it, lubing it up, then nudged Sebastian's hole, before suddenly slamming into him. “Sebastian!” he cried.

             "Nnngh!" Sebastian grit his teeth, tears leaking from his eyes at the pain. "Aunghhh—J-Jim!" He braced his elbows on the floor to keep his balance, widening his legs to balance more as well. He would have rug burns on his elbows for sure.

            “Shh....sh, sh, shhh....” Jim intoned. He leaned forward and pressed his chest against Sebastian's back. His arms reached around and started to caress Sebastian's stomach and pecks, his fingers playing lightly with Sebastian's nipples, giving them light squeezes. He traced Sebastian's shoulder blades with his lips, lightly kissing.                        Sebastian shivered at the feel of Jim's hands and lips, flexing his back, quivering as pleasure raced down his spine and pain burned in his core. He squeezed his eyes shut and pushed back against Jim, meeting his rhythm.

             Jim's thrusts started out fairly slowly, but within a minute, he was slamming into Sebastian, his nails digging into his hips. “God, you're tight—you're only for me aren't you? My cock's the only one you'll allow in you, you little cumslut—“ Jim groaned, starting up a running monologue.

             "Ungh-yes, I'm yours, I'm your dirty slut," Sebastian babbled, pushing back up against Jim, sweat dripping from his forehead. He pushed himself up onto his hands, then sprung backwards, knocking Jim onto his back, with Sebastian on top of him. He scrambled to sit back on Jim's cock, riding him hard, facing away, grabbing Jim's knees and drawing them up toward him. "Fuck me, Jim—" he panted.

            Jim was momentarily caught off guard, by the moment, but immediately started thrusting upwards, shoving deeply into Sebastian, his eyes locked on the tiger on his back. “NNggggh! Seb—!” he gasped.

             Sebastian rocked back against him, penetrated deeply. Once the rocking wasn't enough, he braced himself on his knees and began bouncing up and down, skewering himself on Jim again and again, panting too hard to speak. He took hold of his own cock and began pumping it.

             Jim let out a cry of pleasure, and was reminded of when John had ridden him like this. Wanting even more from Sebastian, he said, “Good, pet—you're nearly as enthusiastic as John was.”

            Sebastian yelled out in rage, almost losing it at the thought of John riding Jim like this, of _wanting_ to ride him like this. It was a bit of a double standard, he knew. After all, here _he_ was...but even so, he grabbed Jim's legs and yanked them up, holding his ankles aloft as he drove down on him. " _You don't get to fucking talk about John during sex_!" he yelled, slamming down on Jim.

             Jim laughed wildly which turned to a moan, he'd gotten what he wanted from Sebastian. His nails dug into the carpet and his back arched up off the floor, “That's it, Sebby, ride me!”

             "What do you—ah!—think I'm doing?" Sebastian growled breathlessly, bracing his hands behind him on either side of Jim to push himself down on Jim again and again. "Jim—touch me—whack me off—please, Jim!" he begged, biting his lip. He was getting close. Jim's hand would do it for him, he was sure.

             Jim reached around and roughly grabbed Sebastian's cock and started jerking at it furiously, moaning and bucking his own hips. “Fffuck, Seb—“ Then, with a cry of pleasure, Jim thrust up hard and came deep inside Sebastian.

             Sebastian felt Jim come inside of him. "Keep pumping Jim—I'mm almost there," he moaned.

             Jim did so, although his was panting hard and lying weakly on the floor. His hand moved faster, wanting Sebastian to join him.

             Sebastian cried out, arching his back, and came over his own stomach and Jim's hand, then fell back on the floor, beginning to feel how sore he really was as the endorphins wore out. He let out a throaty, satisfied sigh. “I was—hoping for a—round two—but—you'd have to give me a while," he gasped out, rolling onto his stomach and looking over at Jim.

             Jim gave a weak chuckle. “Precious, Sebby.” His chest heaved and he folded his hands over his chest and closed his eyes. He needed a break too.

 

            Meanwhile, John was just turning out the lights and crawling into his cupboard with Mrs. Buttons and his flashlight to go to bed. He sighed contentedly, all of his chores done, and pulled the thin blanket up over his shoulder, making room for Mrs. Buttons to curl in next to him.

             Mrs. Buttons purred and settled in next to John's warmth, nudging her face against his. That's when John heard the door opening quietly to the flat. 


	40. Intruder

            John froze as he heard slow footsteps come near his closet. "John?" A voice whispered lowly.

            Sebastian had made a copy of the house key for Sherlock. The plan was that Sherlock would wait with a gun until Jim got back and keep John from doing anything stupid. Sherlock stepped into the dark house, wondering where John was kept.

             John stiffened and pressed back against the back wall of the cupboard, his eyes going wide. Who was here? He clamped a hand over his mouth, and scooped Mrs. Buttons up, holding her to him, a wave of panic washing over him.

             Sebastian had mentioned a cupboard. Sherlock stepped over toward the cupboard and swung it open, keeping his pistol close at hand. "John?" he whispered, and was startled when a cat sprang out past him.

             John had tried to grab Mrs. Buttons, but she slipped through his fingers and launched out the door. John scrambled backwards as far as he could, pulling the blanket up around him, hoping it was too dark in the room to see him.

             Sherlock peered into the dark space, feeling the wall for some sort of light switch. There wasn't one. "John, I'm not going to hurt you," he said, hoping he wasn't idiotically talking to a blank wall back there. "Come out, now."

             John, having gone so long without hearing the voice, and terrified out of his mind, didn't recognize the dark figure looming over him as Sherlock. When it said his name, it about sent him over the edge with panic and he lunged at whoever it was, tackling him to the ground and wrestling the gun away, cocking it and pointing it down at the man as he sat astride his hips. “Who are you?”

             Sherlock gaped up at him. He had expected John to be wary of him, but to not recognize his voice, his figure? His stomach turned in horror. He could feel that John was much, much thinner than he should be. "John—it's me. It's Sherlock. Where are the lights in this place? If you turn them on, you'll see. It's me. Put the gun away," he said carefully.

            “…Sherlock?” John asked, brow furrowed. It was strange. Of course he recognized the name, he knew who Sherlock was and he remembered him being his friend, his flatmate—he remembered everything, but now, those feelings had been replaced by wariness and distrust. He slowly moved backwards off of Sherlock, keeping the gun trained on him and rose to his feet. He took a couple of steps backwards and flipped a switch, flooding the room with light. It was indeed Sherlock. John's heart leapt at the sight of him. He was simultaneously, excited, terrified, nervous, confused, and angry and he couldn't put his thoughts in order. 'What are you doing here?' he demanded, keeping the gun on him.

             Sherlock flicked his eyes to the gun. He kept his voice even and calm. "First of all, John you are clearly in an atrophied state due to lack of nutrition. Know that I could wrestle that gun from your hand in a matter of seconds, so why don't you put that away? I'm here to help. Sebastian and I are both trying to help you. We're going to free you."

             “I don't NEED any help!” John nearly shouted in a panicked voice, as if he were trying to calm himself. “I NEEDED help _THREE MONTHS AGO_!” His limbs started shaking and his voice rose. “What I need _now_ is for you to GET OUT!” If Jim found out about this, John didn't want to think about what he'd do to him, to them both. It made his pulse skyrocket, and his breathing increased exponentially until he was practically hyperventilating.

             Sherlock flared his nostrils, overwhelmed. John's yell felt like a punch in the gut. Why hadn't he worked faster, why hadn't he been better? Why hadn't he figured out how to rescue John as soon as he'd realized something was wrong? This was all his fault. In one swift movement he stepped over, then grabbed the gun from John's hand, tossed it across the room, and grabbed John to hold him, one gloved hand holding his head protectively, the other wrapped around his shoulders and back. He sank to the ground, still holding John. It was like holding a terrified, quivering animal, but Sherlock wouldn't let go. "John, I-I am so, so sorry." The words weren't enough. They were meaningless, weightless, nothing when put up against all that John had endured over the past few months.

             John tried pushing him away, but found Sherlock stronger than he used to be...or perhaps _he_ was just weaker. “Get _off_! _Get off of me_!” John cried, terrified that Jim would, at any moment burst through the door. While Sherlock was still Sherlock, John's feelings towards him were confused and conflicted. Regardless, though, he didn't want Sherlock or any other innocent people dying. “Let GO! You have to leave!” he tried shoving Sherlock again.

             "John, I'm not an idiot. Surely you haven't forgotten _that_. Do you think I would ever risk coming to get you if it put you or me into certain danger?"

             “He has cameras! He can see everything—LEAVE!” John yelled, finally managing to shove himself backwards and out of Sherlock's grasp, his eyes wide with both fear that Jim would come back and annoyance that Sherlock wouldn't listen to him.

             "He's not going to get the chance to review the footage," Sherlock said darkly, standing and looking John over. God—what all had Moriarty done to him?

            “Wh—what does that mean?” John asked his heart leaping into his throat, “What's going to happen to him?”

             Sherlock's eyes widened in horror. God, so it was true. John had grown attached to Moriarty. He’d bored so far into John’s mind that Sherlock knew John had a long, long recovery ahead of him. "John, get into the cupboard," Sherlock ordered.

            John twitched a moment, about to head into the cupboard, but instead, turned tail and ran to the nearest phone, the one in Jim's office. He scooped it up and began dialing Jim's number—he had to warn him, he had to tell him to get out. If Jim died, the snipers would kill his friends and family. If Jim died, he would have _no one._

             "John, STOP!" Sherlock yelled, sprinting after him and jamming his finger into the receiver button, cutting the call before it could go out. He wrestled John away from the phone, tackling him to the floor. "Don't make me hurt you, John," he muttered, looking for something to tie his friend up with. He couldn't believe this writhing, vicious, terrified creature beneath him was John, _his_ John. He wished he had the time to make Jim Moriarty suffer as exquisitely as he'd made John suffer, but he'd have to settle for a quick kill when the time came.

             “No— _NO_!” John screamed, thrashing underneath him. “I need to tell him—I'll be in trouble—please! Everyone will die!” John yelled as he weakly struggled against Sherlock.

            Sherlock pressed his hand flat against John's throat, in a way that wouldn't cause a painful amount of pressure, but would cause him to lose his air supply enough to lose consciousness.

             John choked and fought for breath, clawing at Sherlock's hand. This he hadn't seen coming...Sherlock being the one to kill him. It was a cruel joke, really. Sherlock making him promise to stay alive only to kill him himself. Then John just gave up. He stopped fighting and looked up at Sherlock, tears still streaming down his face. He twitched a bit as he tried to take in air, but his vision started to get spotty, then everything went black.

             Sherlock rested there for a moment, panting, resting his head on his friend's chest. He was still breathing, and his heartbeat was strong. Good. He'd have a headache when he woke up, but he would be safe and alive. He hauled his friend over his shoulder and carried him to the cupboard, binding John's hands in front of him with a spare extension cord he found. He set his friend gently on his pillow in the cupboard, tucked the blanket around him, and then locked the door. He perched himself on the steps and waited, hoping John wouldn't wake up until it was all over.

 

            Sebastian hissed in a breath as Jim's teeth dug into his skin, then groaned as Jim began thrusting in and out, doing his best to push his hips back to meet him. "Yes—Jim, please—more—" He begged.

            Sebastian couldn’t remember if they were on round three or four, but they’d been at it for hours, hurting each other and fucking each other every way they knew how, resting in between. Sebastian was sore and raw and exhausted, but Jim was relentless.

            Jim happily obliged, moving faster, and reaching around to start pumping Sebastian's cock. “Nngh—you like that?”

             "Fuck, yes, Jim, of course I like it," Sebastian growled, wishing he had some or any control over his limbs, pushing back against him as best as he could. "Want me to ask an obvious question too? Do you like fucking me?" He might as well be cheeky, seeing as how he was already being restrained and had already been beaten across the back.

             Jim laughed. “ _Obviously_ , darling. Working over your tight, sweet, arse is one of my favorite activities. Right alongside explosions and assassinations.'

            "Mmmm, I rank just after _those_ two, do I? I'm flattered, Jim. You sure you don't love me?" It was a dangerous question, even with the teasing tone Sebastian put on it. But now he was curious, and this was his last night to find out. Sebastian supposed that he just wanted to try and understand Jim somehow. He had never been able to figure him out, not really.

             Jim grabbed the riding crop and whacked it hard across Sebastian's back as he slammed up against his prostate and yelled “No!” ambiguously.

            "Aungh!!" Sebastian arched his back and groaned through the pain and the pleasure as Jim pushed his prostate. "No, _what_ , Jim? No, _what_ , James Moriarty? I've yet to get a straight answer from you!" he yelled.

            “I _LOVE_ you, you fucking idiot cocksucking bastard!” Jim yelled as he hit Sebastian again, punishing him for making him feel this way, and slamming up against his prostate because at the same time, he wanted so badly for Sebastian to enjoy this.

             "Ah—!" Sebastian cried out at the crop, at Jim inside of him, at what Jim had just yelled at him. Shit. Shit. Shit. He couldn't let Jim live, not after what he'd done to John, not after ruining John. As muddled as his thoughts got around Jim, when he thought of John it was all so painfully simple. But then there was the thought of actually killing Jim. And he realized just how hard it was going to be, how guilty he would feel despite it all. His life had been closely twined with Jim for years. What would he be without him. "Good," Sebastian whispered. "Not so hard, is it? Ride me, Jim. We're so close..." So close to the end.

             Jim cried out in both anger and relief at having it off his chest and began roughly slamming into Sebastian, punishing and pleasing, his feelings reaching both ends of the spectrum. He growled and dug his nails into Sebastian's hip, but at the same time, he moved his hand even faster on his cock, feeling his orgasm near, but he could hold off for Sebastian.

            Sebastian gratefully stretched his cramped limbs, then looked Jim up and down and leaned in to kiss him deeply. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

             Jim's eyes narrowed at him, and he leaned away from the kiss to ask, “For what?”

             "...For making you say it," Sebastian lied, leaning his head against Jim's shoulder.

             Jim rolled his eyes and dropped his head back onto the pillow. “Well,” he said stiffly, “Now you know.”


	41. Betrayal

Despite his exhaustion, Sebastian couldn’t sleep, even as Jim curled up next to him and drifted off. Sebastian watched him. He’d never thought until very recently that Jim had the capacity to love. Jim didn't seem human enough to love someone. And certainly his love for Sebastian was sick and twisted and if they were to ever have a relationship it would be unhealthy in the extreme...but thinking back on it, Jim had never let him fall under any real harm. If his life was in danger, Jim threw aside everything to help him.

            In sleep, Jim looked like an ordinary, rather adorable lrishman. Awake, though…Sebastian thought of John, and wondered if John would ever be able to love him again, or to be normal at all. Whether he could or not, Sebastian would stay with him and help him for as long as it took. He had plenty of money; provided the law didn't catch up with him, he could provide for John for a long time. Once he was sure Jim was deep asleep, Sebastian pulled out his mobile and texted Sherlock.

_Did you make it in? Is John all right? –SM_

_That depends on your definition of "all right." –SH_

_What's his current condition? –SM_

_Unconcious, bound, and locked in a cupboard. –SH_

_When are you coming back with Jim? -SH_

 

            Sebastian's stomach turned at the thought of John bound in the closet. He hoped there was a good reason for it.

 

_So is that how you treat your best friends, then? –SM_

_When they turn a gun on me, yes. Answer my question. –SH_

 

_Jim likes to get moving early, but he's just falling asleep now. ETA 9 am at the latest. Be on the ready. I'll text if I can, but no guarantees. -SM_

 

            Just as Sherlock sent off the text, John started to come around. For a moment, he thought he had indeed, been killed, until he heard the soft pawing of Mrs. Buttons outside the door, and John's stomach dropped. He had so wished it was over. He wanted it all to be over. He moved to push the door open, but realized his hands were bound. Jim had never done that before—it must've been Sherlock. He pushed on the door anyway, and found it was locked. Jim hadn't locked him in for two days, and the panic he felt bubbled up inside him like it had that first time and he tried franticly slamming himself against the door as best he could. When that didn't work, he settled for pounding on it with his bound fists, sobbing, “Sherlock! Sherlock, _please_! Let me out! I'm sorry—I'm _sorry_! I promise I'll be good! Please!”

            Sherlock swallowed, hating his friend's cries. He carefully opened the closet, braced for anything.

             John choked and sobbed as he looked up at Sherlock. He didn't' climb out yet, waiting for permission, lest he get in trouble. His face was puffy, red, tear-stained, and terrified as he sobbed, “I'm sorry—I'm sorry! Please, Sherlock…”

            “Are you afraid of me, John?" Sherlock asked, pulling him out of the dark to look him over.

             John stood before him, trembling and miserable. He didn't know what to do or where his alliance lay with. He was confused and scared, and all he could manage was a weak nod as he looked down at the ground.

             Sherlock grasped John's head between his hands. "John, look at me," he said as gently as he could, trying to meet John's eyes with his intense ones. "Don't you remember our past few years together? Don't you remember? You're my friend, John, my only friend. You saved my life many times. You're my blogger. Don't you remember?"

             John found it hard to meet Sherlock's eyes. He'd been looking down at the ground and avoided eye contact for so long. He tugged lightly at his bonds and swallowed, giving another small nod at the ground. “Of course I do,” he said, his voice quiet and raspy from his crying.

             "John, I'm not going to untie you because I'm concerned that you're going to try to stop me from doing what I have to do," Sherlock said, still cupping John's face. "Understand that I am doing this for _you_ , to help you. You've developed an...unhealthy attachment to Moriarty in your captivity, and it's natural that you would be confused for a while. But when all this is over, things are going to be much, much better. All right?"

             John looked up at him and shook his head, his tears redoubling and streaming down his face. “Please...please, Sherlock...you can't kill him, _please_.... _everyone_ will die...please...please don't kill him...he's all I have anymore, Sherlock.”

             Sherlock tried to shut out John's pleas. They were deluded, he rationalized. It was illogical of John. He would come around. "I'll give you a choice, John," he said over John's begging, trying his hardest to remain calm and collected. "If you don't want to watch, I'll put you back in the closet. If you don't want to go back into the dark, I can keep you out here. But either way, John, Jim Moriarty must be killed."

            “No!” John dropped to his knees in front of Sherlock, grasping at his coat, “Sherlock, _please_ , you don't understand! If he dies, _everyone_ dies! He has snipers in place to kill everyone, including you,” John sobbed. “Please don't kill my friends—please don't kill my sister and Mrs. Hudson, please. I’m begging you,” he cried, desperately and franticly, but he could tell from Sherlock’s face that he wasn’t changing his mind. What was _wrong_ with him?

            John decided he couldn't take it anymore, then, and weakly and dejectedly crawled back into the cupboard to sob loudly, his throat raw, but he could stop the tears or the strained breaths that racked his body. Everyone was going to die. Everyone. He couldn't take it. The pain and guilt on his conscience was weighing him down and he felt like he was suffocating.

             Sherlock wrenched open the closet door and sank down next to John, gathering his head in his arms. "John, do you really think I didn't know? It's _me_ , John. Sebastian and I have been working together to pick off the snipers, one by one. We've been detangling Jim's web right under his nose and he hasn't even a suspicion. You're safe. Everyone's safe now." He stroked John's hair, instinctively rocking back and forth just slightly as he held onto John.

             John choked out another sob, though this one was of relief. Sherlock knew...? Of course he did...and then Sebastian knew as well...so Sebastian was still trying to help him? John hadn't properly seen him in over a week and he hadn't forgot about him, but he had thought that Sebastian had forgotten about him. John had become terrified, meager, and paranoid, jumping at everything, filled with relief with Jim arrived because Jim would feed him, Jim would let him out, drink, go to the bathroom, do his chores. Jim was all he had. “Please,” John whispered, completely torn, “don't kill him, Sherlock...please don't kill him.” Even though he knew he should hate Jim...he simply couldn't find it inside of him anymore. Jim had ripped out every feeling John had leaving only dependency, desperation, obedience, and self-loathing.

             "He's brainwashed you, John," Sherlock said. It broke his heart. He knew such things were recoverable, but it would take time. "It's not logical that you should be defending him. He's tampered with your mind, don't you see? Don't you remember all the horrible thing's he's done to you? He keeps you in a _cupboard_ , for God's sake!" he seethed, his rage threatening to bubble over.

             “But I deserved it...' John said weakly, wishing Sherlock would see, would understand, that this was his own fault, not Jim's. “I was being bad,” he sniffled loudly against Sherlock's lap, his tears dripping onto Sherlock as he shook lightly. “It’s my fault, Sherlock...everything's my fault,” he mumbled, starting to repeat it over and over again, berating himself for having been so bad, for having killed Mike, for having Sebastian give himself over to Jim. Everything was his fault.

             This was stuff Sherlock wasn't going to be able to convince John of. He needed therapy, as soon as possible. He would need to work through this irrational guilt with a professional, but Sherlock couldn’t help but say fiercely, " _None_ of this is your fault. Jim Moriarty did all of this. He did it because he wanted to hurt you. Now. Please, John, I need to be ready. Do you want to go back in the closet or stay out here?"

             John flexed his jaw, trying to get ahold of himself. He wanted to splash cold water on his face. “Can...can I go to the bathroom?” he asked softly, his voice shaky.

             "Yes...but, John, please don't be offended that I come in with you. I'll turn away, I'm just...I'm concerned you'll try to hurt yourself," Sherlock said carefully.

             John looked at him, horrified. “No!' he replied. Not even _Jim_ had ever followed him into the bathroom.

             "So you'll give me your word you won't try to hurt yourself? Or me?" Sherlock asked, feeling foolish.

             “I already promised you that in the hospital...” John mumbled, pushing himself up to sit and pressed his palms against his eyes for a moment, trying to collect himself. “So, may I go by myself?”

            Sherlock nodded, disturbed that John seemed like he couldn't do it until Sherlock gave him the go-ahead.

 

            Meanwhile, Sebastian was busy quietly removing the normal selection of hidden knives from Jim's jacket and shoes, stuffing them in the duffel bag, that way Jim would be unarmed when he returned home. He then slid carefully back into bed and curled next to the madman, trying without success to sleep.

             John dragged himself to the bathroom while Jim slept and stared at himself in the mirror. He looked horrible. His jumper was baggy and hung from his frame. He turned on the water and splashed his face. He stared himself in the eye for a long, long time. Today, it would end. It would finally, finally end, and things would be as they should be. He’d be safe.

            He stayed in there for a while, staring at his reflection, before he quietly slipped the cover off the toilet tank and recovered the gun he’d stashed after the gala, pulling it from the plastic bag and stowing it in his jumper. His face was dried, but it still was red and puffy. He silently walked to the cupboard, hands still bound, and crawled back in. “Please don't lock me in, Sherlock,” he whispered.

             Sherlock nodded, not knowing what else to say besides, "I won't." He went to hide himself from view from the front door, keeping his gun close at hand. He felt a text from Sebastian hours later, after the sun had risen.

 

_On our way back. Be ready. -SM_

 

            Sebastian had awoken in the morning, rolling over to Jim and nudging him awake. "Jim, it's likely time to get up..." he said softly, leaning down to kiss Jim's shoulder and up to his neck.

            Jim groaned and mumbled, “Nooo...I don't have anything to do until afternoon...”

             "Well, if I recall, you gave me some jobs that I have to complete. Come on! Up! Don't make me smack you around some more!" Sebastian said, slapping Jim's arse and throwing his trousers at him. He leaned in and gave Jim a long kiss.

             Jim gave him an annoyed look and then kissed him slowly back before he rolled out of bed and started pulling on his trousers. “I could just call them off, you know...”

            "Mmm, you could, I suppose," Sebastian said, rolling over to grab his shirt. "I'm touched, that you'd put spending time with _me_ in front of an assassination. Amazed, too."

            “I didn't say I was _going_ to, just that I could.” Jim scooped up his shirt and started pulling it on, doing up the buttons, for once not really caring how he looked.

            Sebastian leaned over to kiss at Jim's neck once more as he buttoned up his own shirt, then gathered up the rest of his things, and threw them in the bag. He hunted down the rest of his clothes and shoes. "Well. Ready?" _You're not ready, Jim_ , he thought. _You are so not prepared for this_.

             Jim shrugged on his suit coat and flung his tie over his shoulders, then raked his fingers through his hair. He nodded, grabbing his wallet and stuffing it into his trouser pocket. “Shall we?”

            They headed out and Sebastian drove them home. He opened the door for Jim to get out, then opened the door to the house. Once inside, Sebastian immediately trained his gun at Jim's head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, loves, three more chapters to go!


	42. John's Choice

Jim raised an eyebrow at Sebastian’s gun, then continued on inside of the house. “The abduction game is cute, Sebby, and last night was lovely, but I haven't got time for this.”

             "I'm not playing, Jim," Sebastian said. He pressed the gun to Jim's head. "On your knees."

             Jim turned and looked at Sebastian like he was seeing him, _really_ seeing him for the first time, a slow recognition spreading over his face. It was a mixture of surprise, amazement, and hurt as he realized Sebastian’s loyalties. “Oooh, Sebastian...this is quite the turn of events. Props to you, darling, it's not often that someone can fool me like this...however, dear, need I remind you that not only John, but his friends, family, and _you_ are at stake if you pull that trigger?'

             Sherlock strode in then from the other room. "And I've been at work for the past few months dismantling them, one by one. I have _quite_ the collection of mobile phones at the flat that get texts from you now," he said, coldly eyeing Jim. "Scotland Yard will be here soon, although I'm hoping you won't be around when they get here." He flicked his eyes to Sebastian, who pressed the gun harder to Jim's head. "Maybe you should reassess the loyalty of those close to you, James," Sherlock said mirthlessly.

             Jim grinned wildly when he saw Sherlock, “Oh! Come to join the party, have you? Oh, but this _IS_ fun!” Jim clapped his hands together. “I _love_ surprises! Is there anyone _else_ I should be expecting? But I'm being a terrible host—would you like something to drink, Sherlock? Tea, perhaps?”q

             "I'm sorry, Jim. I'm so sorry," Sebastian murmured. His hand was trembling slightly as he kept the gun pressed to Jim's head. Just one flick of the trigger, that was all he needed. Sherlock met his eyes and nodded. _Do it._

            Jim's manic grin was still plastered on his face. “But wait! Here's John, now—care to grab our guest a cuppa, dear?”

            John had heard them enter and it took him a moment to pull himself from the cupboard. Once he heard Sherlock talking, he pulled the gun back out of where it had been stashed, hands still bound, and silently moved down the hall, for the first time in the past nine hours, his hands were steady as he raised the gun and pointed it at Sebastian, cocking it.

            "John....what are you doing?" Sebastian's eyes flicked to John, and Sherlock moved close to John, ready to tackle him and wrench the gun away if need be.

             "Sherlock, do _not_ touch me," he growled through clenched teeth. His face turned to a look of pure and utter hatred. "Sebastian. Drop. Your. Gun.”

            A look of utter glee and amusement spread over Jim's face.

            Sebastian looked at John in alarm. "John, you can't do this." He would break down if John messed this up.

            Sherlock grabbed his own gun and pointed it at John's leg. "John, I will shoot you if I have to," he said quietly. "Put the gun down."

            John didn't flinch as Sherlock's gun was whipped out. He was expecting as much and keeping his own gun in his hand he suddenly kicked a leg out, knocking Sherlock down, but before he could fall, John used all his weight to catch Sherlock off balance and slam him against the wall, hard enough that Sherlock lost his breath and to his horror dropped the gun as he doubled over, gasping. In one swift movement, John had Sherlock's gun in his hand, and cocked it, one gun was now pointed at Sebastian, the other at Sherlock. “Sebastian, DROP IT!” John yelled.

            Jim giggled in amusement. “Johnny Boy! Look at you! Daddy's _so_ proud!”

             Sebastian dropped the gun in despair, his heart plummeting.

             John's expression was stony. “Kick it away.”

            Jim clapped his hands again and bounced a bit as events unfolded, his hurt from Sebastian eclipsed by the behavior of his pet.

             "John....please. You can't do this," Sebastian said, but do as he was told, raising his hands defensively as he kicked his gun into the corner. "Don't," Sherlock wheezed from the ground. "John—!"

             John's cold eyes locked with Sebastian's for a moment before the gun on Sebastian steadily swung to point at Jim. There was just enough time for Jim to understand. He sighed, wistfully. “Oh, John, you're so full of surprises...I can see why they keep you around.” Jim smirked.

            John blinked, then swallowed, then fired squarely at Jim’s forehead. With a loud thump, Jim’s body hit the floor.

             Sebastian flinched and gave a startled yell as Jim's body hit the floor. He stared at it for a moment, but his instinct was to run to John. "John—! Are you—are you all right?" He asked, grabbing onto him. God, he hadn't gotten to see or touch him in so, so long. He was so thin, so ill-looking.

             John was frozen. Everything had seemed to be in slow motion. He hadn't even realized Sebastian approaching him until he was slammed into. He stumbled backwards, in shock, both guns falling from his limp fingers and clattering onto the ground.

             "John—oh, God, John..." Sebastian embraced John tightly, crying into his shoulder. Sherlock stood up unsteadily. "Give him some space, for God's sake!" he said.

            Sebastian whirled on him. "Would you mind staying out of this? You've no idea what Jim's death means to us. Back off." Sherlock opened his mouth to retort, but instead, blew out some air and went to wait on the front step for Scotland Yard.

            While Sebastian had turned to yell at Sherlock, John had stumbled back a step to catch himself on the wall and then slid down it. He could hear Sebastian and Sherlock talking, but it was if he was hearing it through a puddle of mud. Everything was thick and blurred together and nothing was distinguishable by the time it reached him.

             Sebastian stayed holding onto John as he slipped down the wall. John looked comatose, and Sebastian felt rather numb too. He looked over at the body, where a pool of red was slowly spreading across the wood floor. "It's all right, John...it's all right."

 

            Scotland Yard swept the house, taking all of Jim Moriarty's possessions into their custody, but not before they strode in and yanked Sebastian to his feet, twisting his hands behind his back to snap handcuffs on them. "John—" Sebastian said mournfully. What had he expected? He was a criminal. "Take care of him," he said to Sherlock as he was pushed out the door. "He's suffering from severe post traumatic stress disorder. Take money out of my accounts. I'll contact you with the account number!" he called before he was pushed into a police car. Sherlock grit his teeth. It was time for Mycroft to do him a favor.

            Sherlock came into the house to collect John. "Come on, John, it's time to go home," he said, and he pulled John out of the prison he'd been kept in for so long, and took him back to Baker Street.

            John flinched as he was gently pulled out of the house. He'd been looked over by the paramedics and told he was fit to go home, for the time being at least. The wide-open space of outdoors after being locked in the cupboard for over a week was terrifying. John huddled up, feeling slightly better once he was enclosed in the back of the car, but didn't say anything. He wanted to go back. He wanted to go help Jim. He wanted to remove the bullet from his brain and stitch him back to life and it made him sick that he couldn't and it made him sick that he wanted to.

            Once they reached Baker Street and he was herded inside, he timidly looked around. It didn't feel like home any more.  All of his things had been at Moriarty's, and were, unbeknownst to Jim, in a rubbish bin somewhere. John let Sherlock lead him to his chair and sit him down. He wasn't sure how much later it was, but a cup of tea had been pressed into his hands and he was being told to drink, and so he did. After the room started to get dark, it was as if his brain finally caught up with reality. He looked around the room and noticed Sherlock perched in his own chair watching him with narrowed eyes, studying with concern.

            “Where's Sebastian?” John asked softly, his voice breaking. “...and Mrs. Buttons?”

             "In prison, and here, respectively." Sherlock's eyes flicked to the corner, where Mrs. Buttons was lapping at some water in a dish. "He said you grew fond of the cat, and Scotland Yard let me take it. John. How are you?"

            “Oh...” he said distantly as he looked over at the kitten. “Will...will they let him out?” he asked.

             "Working on it," Sherlock said. "I'm seeing if I can expedite the trial and get him pardoned for his crimes based on the fact that he helped turn Jim in. Mycroft can pull a few strings."

            John gave a small nod. He didn't know what to say or think. He still felt a bit trapped, but in a different way. He was free now, but it felt suffocating. He had grown so used to being told what to do, he didn't know what to do with himself now. It briefly occurred to him to blog, but he couldn't imagine reliving everything he had gone through as he typed it up, nor did he want people to read it. “And Jim, he's...he's dead, then...” John said, hating that a sick part of him hoped that he had somehow miraculously survived.

            Yes," Sherlock said, lacing his hands. "Your room's all made up, so you can settle back in there tonight."

            Mrs. Buttons walked over and hopped on John's lap, purring and kneading his thigh with her paw, then curled next to him, yawning.

 

            Meanwhile, Sebastian was in prison, hating that there was nothing to distract him from his thinking. He kept thinking of Jim, on the floor, dead. He mourned for him despite everything, and he ached to see John.

             John gave another small nod and picked up the kitten, letting her curl in his arms. "I um...I'm going to go to bed, then..." John trailed off, not even knowing what time it was. He slowly rose to his feet and headed towards the stairs with Mrs. Buttons, not intending on letting the kitten out of his sight. He paused before he left the room, though, and turned back to his friend. “...and Sherlock?” John cleared his throat. “Thank you.” he gave him a small, tired smile before he began to climb the stairs. He didn't go to bed quite yet, though. Instead, he went to his bathroom and drew himself a hot bath. He sunk down into it once it was filled and sat quietly for a while. Once it began to cool, he scrubbed every inch of himself clean with military precision and climbed out. He realized he didn't have any other clothes as he went out to his closet, but found a couple items tucked inside. They were Sherlock's. They'd be a bit long for him, but he tugged on a pair of pyjama bottoms anyway, and curled into bed, pulling Mrs. Buttons up next to him.

            He lay awake for hours, unable to sleep, feeling too exposed and thinking about Sebastian. After a while, he grabbed his pillow and blanket and Mrs. Buttons and went to the closet. He pushed the doors open and curled onto the floor, feeling more at home—safer. John still didn't sleep, though, and didn't until he heard the soft notes of Sherlock's violin drifting up the stairs. The sound was so familiar and comforting, that it brought tears to John's eyes. This _was_ home. He tucked Mrs. Buttons even closer to him, and silently drifted off into an exhausted sleep.

 


	43. Home

 Over the next month, Sherlock got John scheduled for regular appointments with a highly recommended therapist, completely financed by Sebastian despite Sherlock's protestations. Through the sessions, John slowly began working through his guilt issues and his PTSD.

            Meanwhile, with little help from a good lawyer and a lot of help from Mycroft, Sebastian's trial was expedited and he was released. The first thing he did when they let him go free was hail a cab to Baker Street.

             "How is he?" he asked Sherlock as soon as he arrived inside.

             Sherlock nodded stiffly. “Better. He's getting better. He's still not quite himself, he still sleeps in his closet some nights, but he's getting better.” Hiseyes flicked towards the stairs, debating whether he should let Sebastian see him. After a moment, he said, “He's in his room if you'd like to go up.”

             Sebastian nodded, his heart pounding as he walked slowly up the stairs and knocked on the door.

             John had been sitting on his bed, reading a book when he the knock. He assumed it was Sherlock, and said, “Come in,” setting his book down.

             Sebastian slowly opened the door, heart in his throat. "Hello, John..."

             John blinked in surprise. He hadn't spoken to Sebastian since Jim’s death, and he hadn’t conversed with him in even longer. He opened and closed his mouth, but couldn't find words—not that he would know what to say if he had them.

             Sebastian wordlessly stepped over to John and sat next to him on the bed, searching his face, not wanting to touch him lest he scare him. "I missed you," he said finally.

             John blinked at him again, still silent for a moment, before he managed quietly, “No one told me you were out.”

             "I got out about twenty minutes ago," Sebastian said, giving a weak chuckle. "I haven't even moved into my new flat yet."

            “Oh...” John said. He stayed where he was for a minute, his eyes scanning over Sebastian's face. He had been forgetting what it looked like. He saw concern etched into his features. John's hands twitched into fists for a moment, then suddenly, before his brain really knew what his arms were doing, they were wrapped tightly around Sebastian, his face buried in the other man's neck.

             Sebastian's eyes widened in surprise and it only took a moment for him to wrap his arms around the other man, holding the back of John's head. He squeezed his eyes shut, fighting back tears unsuccessfully, then finally said fuck it and let himself cry. John was here, John was safe, and he wasn't going to let anyone hurt him again. He clung to John like a life buoy, his heart swelling.

             As John felt Sebastian's tears and his breath catch in his throat, his own eyes welled over and his arms tightened even farther around him. It felt so good, so right, to finally be able to touch him, to hold him. Everything was in the past, he tried to tell himself. “Don't leave, tonight—“ he blurted out as his tears spilled onto Sebastian's shirt.

             "I won't..." Sebastian whispered, holding onto John to the point where he wished he could just melt into his body. "I love you," he murmured in John's ear.

             John choked out some semblance of "I love you, too", knotting Sebastian’s shirt in his hands. He didn't ever want to let go. As he clung to Sebastian, he felt like the weight of the past horrific months was slowly being lifted. Even though Jim was dead and gone, he’d still felt like he was drowning. He couldn't do anything for himself anymore, and felt lost without Sherlock giving him a "Suggestive List of Things to Potentially Do, If You Feel So Inclined To Do Them."

             Sebastian finally pulled away, wiping his eyes, looking John over. "Have you been eating? You look healthier..." John wasn’t a wan skeleton anymore. He didn't look like his old robust self by any means, but he no longer resembled those haunting Holocaust photographs anymore either.

            John gave a small nod, sniffling as he pulled back. He hiccupped and gave a small, watery-eyed laugh. “Sherlock's actually attempted cooking a few times.”

            Sebastian laughed. "Oh dear. I thought I smelled something strange when I came in. Although maybe that was the bag of severed ears sitting on the counter..."

            “I tried likening it to chemistry, but he gets impatient and tosses the recipe in favor of experimentation.”

            Sebastian brushed away some tears from John's face with his thumb. "Would you like to go out for dinner tonight? Or is that...too..." He didn't know how often John got out. He hoped Sherlock was sending him on errands outside like he'd suggested, so that John could get used to being independent again, being out in the city by himself.

             John hesitated a moment. He had only gone out to eat twice since he'd come back to Baker Street, and it still made him nervous. John felt a bit foolish asking, but he felt uncomfortable not being at least a little closed in, so he asked, “Can we sit right next to each other?” He blushed a bit, looking away.

             "Yeah. Yeah, John, whatever you want. Where do you want to go? That Thai restaurant? Remember? Our second date?"

             John gave a small smile. “Of course I remember...I haven't forgotten anything... _anything_ ,” he mumbled, trailing off. He wished he didn’t remember everything. He wanted to delete Jim entirely from his memory so that all he was left with was Sebastian, those joyful, uncontaminated moments. “I'd love to go there.”

            Sebastian nodded and went downstairs to fetch his coat, explaining to Sherlock that he was taking John out to dinner and that John wanted him to stay the night. "Sherlock, I never thanked you properly for helping me get out of prison. Thanks. I really do appreciate it."

             Sherlock pursed his lips and gave a curt nod. It wasn't like he wouldn't have been able to eventually free John by himself, but Sebastian had increased the speed phenomenally. It was also obvious that they cared for each other tremendously. “It was nothing. Mycroft owed me a favor anyway.” He hesitated before adding, “I’m glad you could watch over him. You’re welcome here.”

             "Hey, as long as it doesn't bother you, having someone who used to work for your enemy hanging around your flat," Sebastian said. He looked around. "Actually, this place is starting to feel a bit like home. Mind if I smoke in here?"

             Sherlock frowned as he mentioned it feeling like home, then brightened a bit as he mentioned smoking. He was still going strong on the patch, but John seemed to have no qualms with Sebastian continuing his habit, and Sherlock certainly had no qualms about breathing in the intoxicating scent of cigarette smoke.

            “By all means.” He watched hungrily as Sebastian lit up, then stepped toward him as a plume of smoke rose from the cigarette. Sebastian frowned as the man craned his neck closer to the smoke, breathing in heavily. Just then, John softly made his way down the stairs, buttoning one of his new jumpers. When he’d learned that Jim had tossed all of his things away, he’d been upset, but not as upset as the fact that his picture of him and Sherlock had been chucked.

            “Ready?” John asked.

             "Yeah," Sebastian said, and he and John headed out, Sebastian finishing off his cigarette as they walked down the road together. "Sherlock…really enjoys the smell of smoke," he commented.

             John gave a small chuckle. “One of his many eccentricities.” John bit his bottom lip and tentatively slid his hand into Sebastian's. Sebastian squeezed his hand back.

            It was a short walk to the restaurant. John felt uncomfortable at first, in a public place with Sebastian. He had to shake the illogical feeling that he was going to get in trouble, that he was going to suffer, for enjoying himself with Sebastian. But as the night progressed, he became more and more relaxed, the fragrant, delicate coconut curry awakening his appetite, and Sebastian’s conversation awakening his feeling of connection with the man. He had missed him and he hadn't really even realized how much. By the end of the meal, he was glad that Sebastian had agreed to spend the night—if only to be able to spend more time with him. Also, he didn't want to admit it to himself, but a sick part of him still missed sleeping in the same room as Jim, and he wanted Sebastian to fill the gap.

             When they'd returned upstairs, Sebastian looked around the small space. "Where do you want me? On the floor?"

             John looked at him and took a deep breath. He'd been thinking about this the whole time at the restaurant. He hadn't wanted to move too quickly, but he knew what he wanted. “No, you can share my bed.”

             Sebastian swallowed. "Are you sure? Don't feel obligated. I'll only sleep with you if you want me too." But God, _he_ wanted to. He could think of nothing he wanted more than to fall asleep with John in his arms.

             John pursed his lips and nodded. “I'm sure...I mean...if you don't want to—that's fine, I can take the closet. In fact y-you don't even have to stay if you don't want, I mean...you...you can leave too...that's okay...” John trailed off, feeling stupid and embarrassed. Sebastian hadn't even gone to his own home yet, he'd come directly here after being freed. He probably hadn't even wanted to see John for this long. Was John being selfish?

            "The closet, John?" Sebastian stepped toward him, disturbed. "You really still sleep in the closet?"

             John's cheeks reddened and he kept his eyes on the floor. “Sometimes...” he mumbled.

             "Fuck, John..." Sebastian murmured, not mad at John, but at his circumstances. He ran his hand down John's face. "If you're sure, I want nothing more than to sleep with you tonight. All right?" He tilted John's face up toward him and pressed his forehead to John's.

            John smiled, relieved, and Sebastian pushed back the covers and crawled to the far end of the narrow bed, moving to his side to make room for John.

             John gave a small nod, still a bit hesitant, before he moved to crawl in next to him. He stayed on the far end for a moment, before he tentatively moved closer, until he was right next to Sebastian. Sebastian wrapped his arm around him, holding him protectively. He loved how John's body fit right against his. "Goodnight, John," he murmured, brushing his lips against John's ear and closing his eyes.

             “Goodnight...' John murmured, and to his surprise, he felt safer and more secure than he had in ages. He curled even closer to Sebastian. Feeling Sebastian here, next to him, brought back memories; memories he hadn't forgotten, but memories that had seemed flat—two dimensional. Now, though, things rushed back; Sebastian's smell, his warmth, his lips on John’s, his rough hands, the brush of his hair. As everything rushed back, John couldn't help but let out a choked sob into Sebastian's chest.

             "John....you all right?" Sebastian asked, stroking John's hair, wishing he could make this all stop, make John's tears and sadness vanish instantly. Of course, it was never that simple.

             John nodded, holding him tighter. He was better now than he had been in months—but he couldn't find the words to say it.

             "All right..." Sebastian whispered. "I love you." He held John close and rested his chin on John's head, letting John rest on his chest and shoulder. He could feel John's heartbeat against his chest, and relaxed as John's heartbeat slowed to a steady tempo.

             After a while, John's tears ceased, and he lay silently, curled against Sebastian. He pulled the blanket up over them and snuggled against Sebastian farther against him. “...I'm sorry,” he whispered.

             "Don't. Be. Sorry," Sebastian said. "You've nothing to be sorry for. _He_ did this to you, and you're working your arse off to try to be normal again. You have no reason to be sorry, understand?"

             John's therapist kept telling him more or less the same thing. It was different, though, hearing Sebastian say it. He nodded against Sebastian's shoulder, then looked up at him, his eyes still wet. “I understand. But it’s not so simple.”

            “I know, John. But things are going to get better. They will.”

            John gave a little smile and leaned up to give Sebastian a light, lingering kiss, before he laid back against him, and closed his eyes. For the first time in what felt like ages, he truly believed Sebastian. He listened to Sebastian’s heartbeat until he drifted asleep.

             In the morning, Sebastian woke with his arms around John. Not wanting to rouse him, he lay, watching John sleep, thinking he could spend every morning like this.

            It took John a while to wake up. He wasn't used to the lingering warmth of another body in his bed. He hadn’t, for the first time in months, had a nightmare. The entire night, he had slept like a rock, unmoving, in a deep sleep. When he finally woke, his cheeks were flushed from sleep, his hair rumpled, and his eyes bleary. “…morning...” he mumbled.

            Sebastian restrained himself from leaning over and kissing John. He'd vowed he wouldn't initiate anything until he was certain John wanted it. "Morning," he said softly. "I should get going. I haven't even moved into my flat yet. It's not far, it's in Bloomsbury." He rolled past John, kissing his shoulder on the way, and got dressed. He and John made arrangements to see each other later in the day.

 

            Over the next few months, Sebastian slowly acclimated to normal life. It was strange, not killing people on a daily basis. He missed that thrill of the chase, the constant adrenaline that came from living with Jim. However, Sherlock had explained Sebastian's impressive skill sets to Mycroft, and Mycroft had found a position in the MI6 for Sebastian that allowed him to make a handsome wage and use his gun upon occasion.

            Sebastian would invite John over to his flat and they would muddle about trying to cook together, they'd play cards and laugh, and often they would sleep together in Sebastian's large bed, but Sebastian would never push things any further.

             One night John admitted that one of his recurring nightmares involved him kissing and making love to Sebastian, then Sebastian would start choking him and Sebastian would morph into Jim, grinning sadistically down at John, and he'd hurt John in thousands of different ways. It made Sebastian's skin crawl to think of it, and he was glad he hadn't pushed John into anything yet.

             “I'm sorry,” John said in response to Sebastian’s shocked face. “I shouldn't have told you that...it hasn't been coming as frequent anyway. I just...gah. Sorry,” he mumbled, embarrassed as he lay next to Sebastian, cocooned in the duvet.

             "No, I should know this sort of thing. It’s okay, John…” Sebastian ran his hand down John’s face. “Cards tonight? Some work guys are coming over for poker. Aren't you proud of me? I'm making actual friends. Trying to, anyway. Being normal is fucking hard."

            John grinned and leaned in to give him a kiss. “You're doing well, Seb...cards will be fine.” John sat up and looked at him for a moment. He pursed his lips. There was a question he had been wanting to ask Sebastian for quite some time now, but he'd been nervous as to what the answer would be. “Can I ask you something?”

             "Yeah, anything."

             John chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment, hesitating before he finally asked, “Why don't you kiss me, anymore?” Sebastian hadn't initiated anything since Jim’s death. At first John didn't mind, or even notice, but now he was starting to wonder if it was because Sebastian didn't want to. Maybe he wanted out. If that was it, John couldn't really blame him. John had been extremely reserved and nervous and withdrawn for several months, but he had liked to think that he had come out of his shell again. Maybe he wasn't quite how he was before, but he was on his way, wasn't he? John flexed his jaw and looked at him intently, trying not to psych himself out too much.

             "I—I don't kiss you anymore because...well, because of fucking nightmares like you just described to me, John! I don't want to scare you off. I don't want to rush into anything or force you to do anything you don't want to do. Why, do you _want_ to be kissed? Because for fuck's sake, I'll kiss you any day every day...I just want to be sure you're okay with it."

             John flinched at Sebastian’s reply, and he couldn't help but feel a wave of guilt wash over him again. His cheeks reddened and he looked away. Of _course_ Sebastian was just doing it to protect him—because he cared. John felt foolish for not having seen that. “Oh...sorry,” he mumbled, looking down at the bedding.

             "Well, _do_ you? Come on, John, you're driving me mad, here," Sebastian said, nudging his face next to John’s. "Yes....or no?" he murmured, his lips close to John's temple.

             John looked up, his cheeks still red. “Of course I do.”

             Sebastian looked him over for a minute, his breath catching, then he leaned in and softly held John's chin and pressed his lips to John's.

             John felt a weight lift from his chest. He hadn't realized how worried he had been that Sebastian didn't want him anymore. His lips tingled lightly and it seemed to spread throughout his body, warming him. His eye slid shut as he tenderly returned the kiss.

             Sebastian burrowed closer to John, cupping his face and kissing him a bit more fervently.  John let the duvet fall and moved one hand to Sebastian's face, the other between his shoulder blades, melting against him.

             They lay together for a while, slowly twining together, making out for a good half hour. "We should go on a holiday," Sebastian said as they finally drew apart for long enough for him to speak. "Just you and me."

             John’s smile was slow-spreading and genuine. “I'd like that,” he said, lightly brushing his fingertips over Sebastian's bristly jaw.

            "Good. See if you can get a week off work in May. I'll do the same." Over the next few months, they both kept working, John filling shifts at the clinic and helping Sherlock with cases, Sebastian reporting to the MI6 for assignments, planning their trip to the Alps and spending time with John in his free time. He got rather addicted to working out at the gym, and he even asked to help out on one of the cases when Sherlock needed a gunman on the lookout and a partner next to him, but all the while counting down the days to their holiday.


	44. Holiday

            When May arrived, everything for their trip was sorted, and Sebastian had made arrangements for a trip through Switzerland and Bavaria, packing his hunting supplies so they could do some hunting in the mountains and forests. He also packed another secret thing deep in his suitcase.

            For a while John had been nervous about being away from the comfort of his flat, but he was going to be with Sebastian, and when the day arrived all of his nervousness had been replaced by overwhelming excitement. John held Sebastian's hand through most of the flight.

            While they waited for their bags in the Zurich airport, John glanced over at Sebastian. “How's work?” He grinned. “This camping trip isn't a cover for you sneaking off to pop some terrorist in the head, is it? You're not going to go Jason Bourne on me, are you?” he asked, before grabbing up his bag off the conveyor belt.

            Sebastian laughed, grabbing his own bags. "No, no work this week. No covert operations or exploding cars. Just you and me, John," he said, leaning down to kiss John's cheek.

            They spent the next couple days in a remote Swiss village called Gimmelwald with astounding views of the mountains, hunting by day and returning to the modest little hotel at night. On their last night in Switzerland before they would move into Germany, Sebastian was so proud of John's improved hunting that he picked him up in the hotel and carried him back to the hotel room, kissing him. "You, sir, are _quite_ a hunter..." he chuckled as he kicked open the door to the bedroom.

             John's face reddened as Sebastian hauled him up, a bit overwhelmed by Sebastian's public display of affection, but it was forgotten as their lips met. John laughed as Sebastian kicked open the door. “I'm learning from the best.”

             Sebastian set him down and backed him up against the door to kiss him again, still on an adrenaline high from the hunt. He tipped John's chin up to meet his lips more directly, and then let his hands roam down John's chest.

             John's eyes slipped closed as he leaned back against the wall, his hands going up to cup Sebastian's face.

             Sebastian ripped off John's jacket, kissing up John's throat and jaw, then froze in the midst of lifting up John's shirt to touch the warm skin underneath. "...Sorry...am I going too fast?" They hadn't gone further than kissing since before Jim's death.

             John found himself surprised when Sebastian stopped and asked his question, not because Sebastian had stopped, but because he hadn't even thought about it. For months, John had been nervous that Sebastian would want more than he was able to give, but he hadn't thought about it _once_ during the trip. He gave a small, relieved laugh. “No,” he said, finding himself not even remotely haunted by the events of the past. “No, you're not...” he looked up to meet Sebastian's eyes, grinning, then yanked him back down for another kiss.

             "Mmm!" Sebastian hummed into John's mouth in delighted surprise, pulling him closer, then let his hands once again roam up John's bare body under his shirt, squeezing at his pecks and wrapping around to clutching at his back before he pushed John away just enough to pull his shirt and jumper up over his head, casting them to the floor. His lips immediately lowered to John's shoulder as he held John close, kissing fervently along every inch of skin. "God, it's been so long—you're making me frantic," Sebastian breathed, feeling his erection come to fullness.

            John tipped his head back, eyes closed, and smiled to himself as his fingers threaded through Sebastian's hair. He could feel himself starting to get hard in his trousers, and he pushed his hips forward against Sebastian.

             Sebastian's breath hitched and he made frantic work of shedding his own jacket and shirt, pulling John close to him again, kissing up his neck and face and meeting his lips again. He loved the feeling of their bare chests together, and walked backwards towards the bed, pulling John with him.

            John let Sebastian pull him along, his own hands rememorize Sebastian's chest and arms and shoulders. When they reached the bed, they climbed on together, and John leaned in to resume their kissing, his hands traveling down to unbutton and unzip both of their trousers.

             Sebastian's heart was thudding as he reached into John's open trousers and grabbed onto his cock, beginning to palm and stroke it. "God—John," he whispered. "Take off your trousers. Let me suck you."

             John's breath caught and he shimmied out of his trousers, spreading his legs, moaning lightly as Sebastian's hand found him again.

             "Mmm." Sebastian kissed wetly and feverishly down John's chest, then pushed his legs apart just a bit farther to begin licking, kissing, and sucking at the skin above John's cock, at his inner thighs, then finally began to lick at his prenium.

             John shuddered and his fingers recurled in Sebastian's hair as he let out a low, pleasured moaned. He tensed just a bit, not wanting to be reminded of any of his most recent experiences in bed, but the thoughts were quickly pushed from his mind as he began to drown in pleasure.

             Sebastian stroked his hands along the tops of John's thighs. "John, look at me," he said softly.

             John's eyes slowly opened and he turned his head to look down at meet Sebastian's gray eyes. Sebastian kept them locked on John as he wet his lips and slowly took John in his mouth, sucking languorously.

            The sound that came out of John's mouth was broken and desperate and needy and relieved. He flexed his hips and pushed them up just a bit.

             Sebastian slid his hands between the mattress and John to grip at his bum, pushing him in tighter as he began to bob in and out.

             “Uh! Unnngh! S-Sebb—“ John groaned, his eyes sliding shut again as his head tipped back.

             Sebastian kept watching John, kneading his bum. He could set John into a fit of pleasure right now, but he pulled back, catching his breath. "John...have you ever been inside a man before?" he asked huskily.

             “Wha...what?” John asked, his attention immediately back on Sebastian.

             "Have you?" Sebastian asked, sliding up to sit up, beginning to remove his own trousers and pants.

             “Um...no. No, I haven't,” John said. His heart raced. “Did…did you want me to?”

             "I want you to feel what it's like," Sebastian said, rolling back, pushing his hips up, and sliding down his trousers and pants to free his erection, eyes on John. "I want you to fill me."

             John watch as his trousers were removed. “Okay. Um...okay. Do you—er, have you got any lube? Or...?” he asked, feeling equally nervous and excited.

             "Yes, here," Sebastian said, fetching it from his cast off trousers pocket, handing it to John. "You've been fucked enough to know the general procedure, yes? For what prepares you well for it to feel good?"

             John wetted his lips and gave a small nod as he looked down at the bottle. He took a breath before he uncapped it, and spread some onto his fingers, lathering them. He moved to position himself between Sebastian's legs and pushed them apart gently. He looked up to meet Sebastian's gaze, then moved his fingers down to slowly start massaging at Sebastian's hole. It was a part of him that John realized he'd never actually touched before. Not before Jim, not during Jim, and not after. This was completely new. After a moment, he slipped in a finger.

             Sebastian's breath was heavy as John massaged him, then he took in a breath as John's finger slid into him. "Good, John...if you push in further and angle up a bit..." He gasped and felt a current of pleasure as John's finger brushed his prostate. "Yes..."

            John noted the spot and pressed it again as he slipped in his second finger and began to stretch him out.

             "Mmhfhh—move them faster, John," Sebastian murmured, his fingers curling into the sheets.

             John nodded and did what Sebastian said, moving them in and out faster, slowly pushing them apart to scissor them. As he did, he made sure to occasionally press up against his prostate, then added a third finger.

             Sebastian began panting, reaching up to hold onto and stroke John's biceps and clenching his buttocks around John's finger. After a minute, John finally pulled them out, then slicked up his cock. He nudged Sebastian's entrance with the head, “Ready?” he breathed.

            "God, yes, John.." Sebastian said, squirming at the thought of John inside of him, at watching John's face as he felt what it was like to be on top for the very first time.

             John's breath caught and he nodded before slowly pushing in. Sebastian was tight and hot around him. He snuggly hugged his cock and John let out a low moan as he pushed in, his heart slamming inside his chest.

             "Ah—!" Sebastian said, then spread his legs wider and groaned as John pushed in. "You feel amazing, John—"

             John's eyes slid open and he looked down at him, “ _You_ feel amazing...” he breathed. He leaned forward so that he was lying more on top of Sebastian, bracing his hands on either side of Sebastian's head. He gave him a slow, deep, kiss, then started to move.

             Sebastian craned his head up to meet John's kiss, then gripped John's hips and arse as he began to move. "Unnff—y-yes...John...up a bit!"

             John angled his hips upwards and began to move a bit faster. He moved his body against him, still kissing and letting out small gasps and moans.

            "Ah!" Sebastian cried out as John found his prostate, gripping John's bum and began to snap his hips up to meet John's movements. "Harder!"

             John obliged, and finally let go, slamming into Sebastian as he panted above him. “F-fuck—“

            Sebastian rolled his hips, overwhelmed, gripping tightly to John and moaning loudly. He had to close his eyes because if he kept looking up at John he'd lose it immediately. "Ohh—Johnn—!"

            “F-ff…I'm close,” John choked out, only slightly embarrassed by how quick he was to losing it. He wrapped his hand around Sebastian's cock and began to pump it wildly.

             "M-me too. Oh, God—I love you, John—“ Sebastian opened his eyes and stared up at him, moaning desperately as he reached the vey edge of an orgasm.

            At Sebastian's words, the coil in the pit of John's stomach released and he gave one final thrust into Sebastian, coming hard inside of him. Sebastian came not long after, spilling over his stomach, crying out John's name.

             John shuddered above Sebastian for a moment, closing his eyes, breathing hard. When he opened them, he leaned down to give Sebastian a tender, lingering kiss, before he moved to lay next to him.

             "How'd that feel…topping?" Sebastian said, stroking back John's damp hair and kissing his forehead.

             “Good,” John breathed kissing him. Better than good. “I love you...”

             "Mmm, I love you too, John..." Sebastian said, then pulled away and looked down at himself. "I need to rinse off, I think," he grinned. "Want to join?"

             “’Course,” John said, smiling. He stretched lazily, then rolled off the bed to join Sebastian in the shower.

             In the shower, Sebastian planned his next move as he was getting clean. He scrubbed himself and John rather hurriedly, nervous. They stepped out, toweling each other off, then returned to bed. Sebastian pulled the covers up over them and held John close. "I can't imagine what I'd do without you, John," he murmured, leaning up to kiss John's eyebrow.

             John gave him a small smile. “Come and look for me?” he suggested jokingly, letting his hand trail across Sebastian's chest.

             Sebastian laughed. "Yes..." It was now. It had to be now. He looked into John’s eyes, suddenly seriously, then leaned over and pulled something out from underneath the mattress that he'd stowed there earlier. "John, I want to spend the rest of my life with you..." He opened up a small box to reveal a platinum band. "...Will you marry me?"

            John's heart stopped for a moment. It was hard to believe that everything he had been through had led up to this. His hand flew up to cover his mouth and muffled a happy sob. His eyes slid from the band up to Sebastian's face as tears stung his eyes. “Yes...” he said into his hand, then pulled it away as a smile broke out on his face through the tears. “ _Yes_!” He flung himself at Sebastian, wrapping his arms around him under the blanket. “ _YES_!”

             Sebastian grinned and laughed, yanking John on top of him to give him an enormous bear hug, then pulled his head down and showered him with a dozen frantic kisses. He couldn't stop grinning. He'd never been so happy in his life. He reached over for the ring box to slip the ring on John’s finger.

            "Fuck—where'd the ring go?" They both looked at each other in alarm, then burst into laughter. In their excitement, it had fallen behind the bed, and Sebastian leaned his arm down to blindly feel for it, pulling it a few moments later. When he finally stopped laughing, he breathlessly slipped the ring onto John's finger, then kissed his hand.

            John’s heart felt like it would burst. He leaned to give Sebastian a long, tender, loving kiss. He wanted to say "I love you" again, but the words seemed overused and meaningless for the message he wanted to convey, but by the look on Sebastian's face, he completely understood. John ran his hand down the side of Sebastian's face, and decided to say it anyway, “I love you.”

            "God, I love you too, John," he said in awe, staring up at John's eyes. After all the shit, the pain, the torment, the lies...things were finally, _finally_ as they should be. "My future husband," he laughed, then leaned up to kiss John again. Neither of them slept the rest of the night, too busy talking and laughing and planning and making love to bother. When the sun finally rose and they had to catch their train to Germany, they were exhausted but so, so happy.

            The rest of their holiday passed in a happy haze. "I don't expect you to leave Sherlock," Sebastian said on their flight home. "You can stay with him if you want, but my apartment will always be open. We'll always be close, and I'll be there for you, always." He secretly hoped John would live with him, but he couldn't tear up the deep friendship John had with Sherlock against John's will. Either way, he would be so very happy. He squeezed John's hand, wearing the engagement band he'd bought for himself. They matched now.

             John gave him an amused look. “Sebastian, just because Sherlock is my dear friend, it doesn't mean I'm going to spend the rest of my life living with the man. If you're offering, I would love to move in. I just hope you won’t mind me getting calls all hours of the day from Sherlock telling me to join him on a case.” John leaned over and gave him a kiss.

             Sebastian grinned in relief. "Perfectly acceptable...it's not like MI6 gives me regular hours, anyway." Sebastian kissed him back. "I am so excited to spend my life with you, Captain Watson."

             John smiled. “I couldn’t agree more, Colonel Moran.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND THAT'S A WRAP!! Dang, it's been a marathon! Thanks, readers, for comments, kudos, love, predictions, suggestions, and feels-sharing. I really appreciated it all!


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